The Meltdown Continues
by buffett-head
Summary: Picks up where Blame It On Speculation by Sassyplatypus leaves off. Would it be possible for Luke and Lorelai to have an affair if they both realized their feelings for each other. Set right after The Incredible Shrinking Lorelais.
1. Bedtime Stories and Morning Memories

**Background information and Author's note all rolled into one convenient package:** So I read Blame It On Speculation by SassyPlatypus and noticed that, unfortunately, for all intents and purposes the story seems to be on a permanent hiatus and won't be finished. Which is a shame, because I was really looking forward to finding out how this story ends. So I took the initiative and decided to create an ending. Hooray for unilateral action.

I have to give kudos to SassyPlatypus for BIOS. Even unfinished, it's well written and can stand alone as an 'unresolved' work. You'll have to read her story if you're going to read my story, it won't make sense otherwise. If you need a refresher it's logged under my favorites section. The basic premise is the same: would it be possible for Luke and Lorelai to have an affair if they both realized their feelings for each other.

Unfortunately, for one reason or another, I couldn't contact SassyPlatypus so this has sort of become the unauthorized continuation of her story; I just want to tie up all these loose ends—and yes, I do have that much string. Coincidentally, I'm still looking for a beta to proof the story since I've already got it written. Leave a note in a review if you're interested. It'll be on a first come first serve basis. Reviews are appreciated, but I write for the sake of telling a good story so I won't demand them. I find that this way the ones who do leave reviews are the ones with valid opinions.

A note about the layout of the story: it is written in first person from Lorelai's POV. In order to keep the flow of the original story, there is also a second, "more reasonable" inner voice that questions everything she does. So the regular type is the narration of the story and Lorelai's thoughts. The inner voice is in _italics._ Occasionally _italics_ or **bold **or **_both_** are used to emphasize words. It may seem confusing, but you'll catch on fairly quickly. Also, despite my best efforts, I've yet to figure out 'Gilmore Time.' I did an obscene amount of research to try and put things in order, but it seems inevitable that there will be some inconsistencies or blips that I missed. I apologize, so pleasejust move past it. This is, after all, fiction. Of course, these things might get caught if I had a beta. Hint, hint…

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Gilmore Girls or the characters therein, and I do not own, nor did I create, Blame It On Speculation. I borrowed a couple lines from the episode after "The Incredible Shrinking Lorelais." I did, however, create this continuation of the original storyline. All rights reserved. Title XXVII, sec. 2 par. A. C/O the law offices of Dewey, Cheatem, and Howe.

Here it is…a continuation of **"Blame It on Speculation" **

**To explain; or rather, to some up:**

"I mean, how do you feel about me?"

"Lorelai!" Luke reaches out behind him and grabs the alarm clock. He turns to thrust it in the air and wave it around in front of me, as if it were a crucifix warding off evil spirits. "Do you see where the little hand and the big hand are resting? _Resting_! Which is more than I can say for you and me. Especially me.

"It is a quarter to one in the morning, crazy lady, and I am not up for twenty questions at a quarter to one in the morning. And furthermore, after the night we had, one would _think_ that you would be as burned out as I am but I've obviously underestimated you, haven't I?

"Forgotten all about the fact that there's caffeine running through your veins and I guess that's partly my fault for playing dealer and contributing to your mindless addiction but I run a diner you're my best customer and I need the business. _Business_, Lorelai! I have got to be up in less than five hours to run my business, understand?"

"I understand," I murmur, having processed maybe five percent of what he just said. "Can I just say one more thing?"

"God, what now?"

"I think I'm in love with you."

**And the story continues…**

"**She had nothing else to say, so she said she loved me…"**

'**Lost Horizons' The Gin Blossoms**

1. Bedtime Stories and Morning Memories

"I think I'm in love with you." _Didn't see that one coming did you Luke?_

He's quiet a few moments and I can almost see the wheels turning in his head. He looks a little dumb-founded by my confession. "You _think _you love me?" He finally asks with the hint of a laugh, as if he thinks I'm joking with him. He sets the alarm back on the left-hand nightstand and looks up at me.

_Okay, he's not taking us seriously._

But why not?

_It's a quarter to one in the morning and you've been crying all night, that's why. You might want to explain yourself sometime soon. _"What I mean is…I…It's—"

"Lorelai, calm down." He shakes his head once and blinks a few times before looking me in the eye. "What's going on?" He asks in a tired voice.

I'm in love with you.

_We are in love with him? You don't just **think** we're in love with him? _

Nope, definitely in love.

_So you decided—just like that—in the middle of the night?_ _Without even making a pro/con list?_

I just saw thirty thousand reasons to love him—and that's only the cherry on top of everything else.

I realize Luke is still watching me—looking a little concerned. And suddenly I'm dangerously close to crying again. The disastrous dinner, the meltdown in the park, the realization that I love Luke and Luke loves me. That last part came in a bolt-of-lightning realization, straight out of the blue clear sky.

_Alright George Strait, we hate country music and that was a terrible reference._

But it's a good song; it's catchy…

_Answer Luke before he thinks you're bipolar._

"I'm just feeling a little overwhelmed by everything." I sniffle a little and cover my eyes.

_God, don't you think you've freaked him out enough for one session?_

May as well tell the truth, he knows when I'm lying anyways.

But Luke has already flipped the covers off his legs and is making room for me to sit down. "Come here, Lorelai." He hesitantly takes hold of my left hand and sighs as I sit down to his right. I know he's feeling nervous and awkward and is most definitely freaked out by now. But it's sweet to see him pretend that he's not so that he can try and talk me down from another ledge tonight. "Do you remember when I told you what happened the first day I opened the diner?"

I smile a little. "Yes."

"I promise you will not puke and pass out in the back room when you open your inn. Sookie's your partner, Rory's there for you to talk to, and…I'm here, if you need anything." There's a small pause as he tries to find the moral in the story. "Look, the point is, when I opened the diner I tried to do everything by myself. I mean, I kinda had to do most of it myself, but I didn't ask for help from people who could have helped. I didn't want anyone to know how nervous I was, and it blew up in my face because everyone ended up knowing." He gives a frustrated little sigh and I can tell the words are not coming out the way he wants them to. "I'm just saying that you have people here who care about you, who want to help, so don't be afraid to ask for a little help if you need it. It's taken me a long time to learn that, and I don't want you to have to learn it the same way I did."

I feel like I'm in an episode of _Fractured Fairytales_. I can't help but chuckle a little through my drying tears. Luke's telling me a story—

_About puking and passing out._

Stop interrupting me! Luke is telling me a Bedtime Story—that yes, is a little gross, but has a really good ending. It's absolutely adorable. For someone who doesn't have a way with words, those last few sentences came out pretty good.

Luke seems a little relieved that my spirits are up again. After a moment he squeezes my hand "Hey," he says in a low voice.

I don't trust myself to say anything, so I just look into his eyes.

"Was that a moment?" He asks a little shyly.

He remembered. He remembered that stupid little rant I went on about a moment that wasn't even real. "Yes," was all I could say.

"Good." He looks at the curtains and then back at me. "Do…do you think it can make up for the one I ruined earlier?"

_God, yes. _

"I think so." I answer quietly.

"Good." Luke repeats, glancing around the room. He shifts around a little and returns to me. "Look, you really should take the bed."

"I'll be fi—"

"Get in my bed." He says with authority.

"Dirty." I grin back.

He blinks as he processes what he just said. "Walked right into that one," he sounds like he thinks he should've seen that one coming. He sighs and says, "Take the bed or neither one of us will get any sleep."

"Why?"

"Because you'll be rolling around on that couch every thirty seconds and huffing 'cause you can't get comfortable." He explains as he gets up and pulls the covers back for me to scooch in.

"I thought I was quiet." I protest as I lay down.

"I thought I was having a nightmare." Luke shoots back as he throws the covers over me.

"Hey! So I'm the creature of your nightmares now?"

"No!" Luke tries to backtrack.

"So I'm the creature of your dreams?" I grin again.

"G…th—is it possible that you get wittier as the night gets later?" Luke is exasperated now.

"It's possible. You've got me so wound up that I might start talking in my sleep." I tease in a flirty voice.

"Oh my God," Luke grumbles. He mumbles what could have been "how nice of you to tell" but it sounds more like "my own private Hell."

I'm in his dreams. My heart flutters a little.

_Well, he's in ours; it's only right._

He can't get me out of his head.

_Because you can't keep our mouth shut. We're like that 'Small World' song._

Stop bringing me down!

_You mean stop bringing us down._

Ugh! I've had enough of you; be quiet for a little while. "Luke." I grab his hand and make room for him to sit down next to me, but he's a little unsure of what's going on. "Sit down, just for a couple minutes." I pull on his arm and he relents, leaning his back against the pillow and the wall behind the bed and resting halfway on the mattress. I want to kiss him but I know I can't; and the alcohol that fortified my earlier attempt has given way to the knowledge that to do so would ruin what has happened tonight. It would be wrong to kiss him because he is not my Luke—not anymore. "Thank you—for helping me tonight." It's all I can do.

"Your welcome," Luke leans his head back and yawns deeply, but he is still holding my hand.

_You should let him go to sleep; he gets up at a quarter to five every morning._

I should let him sleep, but now my mind comes back to the original point: that check for thirty thousand dollars. The fact that he cares about me enough to help me get my dream back onto a firm foundation. Why would he do that? I know the short answer: that he's my friend. But why would he be my friend? All the little moments we've shared over the years are swirling in my head and I'm just curious enough to ask him. "Luuuke?" I whisper.

"Wha…" He sounds really tired.

"Is 'wittier' a word?" _Way to lose your nerve._

"I don't know. Jess is my resident etymologist and I haven't talked to him in a while."

"Is it possible that _you _get wittier as the night gets later?" I smile.

"It's possible." His eyes are still closed so he doesn't notice that I'm studying him, trying to catalogue this as another little moment.

"Luke." I whisper again.

"Yes," His eyes open a little

"Why are you helping me?"

He opens his eyes a little wider and releases my hand, and I can tell he's gone from tired to annoyed. "Haven't we been through this already?"

"Well, yes. I guess what I mean is why are you so nice to me?"

"We've been through this too."

"When did you know that we were friends?"

"Wha…" he goes quiet and I know I've stumped him. "Do you want like a specific date in time or something?"

"If that's possible," I try to sound casual, hoping he can tell me exactly when the realization hit him.

"Lorelai, that's not really the kind of thing you can nail down." It sounds like he thinks I should know that.

"Not even a ballpark figure?"

"It was before tonight." He replies in a worn-out voice.

"How long before tonight?"

"Sometime before dinner."

"Could you be any vaguer?"

He sighs a heavy sigh. "Look, we can talk about this in the morning if it's still on your mind."

"But we we're supposed to talk about the check in the morning." I point out.

"But you found it tonight," He counters, and I can tell he's beginning to lose his patience. "So now it won't take too long and we'll have something to fill in the time. But I need to get up in about four hours, and I would like to get some sleep, so go to bed."

"Fine," I pout a little. "See you mañana."

"Please don't say mañana if you don't mean it." Luke mumbled

"What does that mean?" I ask

"Nothing—it's just a little Jimmy Buffett humor. Now go to sleep."

He starts to get up to go back to the couch, but I put my hand over his. "Just a few more minutes?" I plead.

"Fine," He lets out an exhausted sigh. "Just a few more."

* * *

I wake up to a mechanical buzzing that is coming from the nightstand to my left. I look around and it registers that I am still at Luke's—more appropriately, in his apartment. 

_And in his bed._

I swing my left arm to stop the buzzing. A streetlight glows through the curtains and gives the apartment a dim light. I turn the alarm off and roll onto my right side. Luke is still asleep, resting in the same position that he was last night when he promised to sit for just a few more minutes. How can he sleep through that alarm?

_You talked his ear off all night. You know he usually goes to bed early on delivery mornings._

I hear a truck pull up outside the diner and its engine stops.

_The lettuce delivery is here; better wake him up._

"Luke." I say softly and nudge his shoulder.

He grunts a few times and begins to roll over, but he's not entirely on the bed so he starts to fall. His eyes are instantly wide open and he catches himself on the nightstand. "What the hell?" I hear him mumble as he tries to figure out why he's in this position.

"Luke." I say again, and he looks over at me. I see surprise flash across his face before he remembers what happened last night.

"What time is it?" He releases his white-knuckle grip on the bed and rubs his eyes.

"Early." I reply. "I think your lettuce man just pulled up out front."

"Okay." He says slowly. He stands up slowly and looks around, probably still a little confused as to why I'm the one waking him up. A truck door slams outside and Luke snaps into Diner Mode. He grabs a pair of jeans and disappears into the bathroom for a moment, then steps into his boots and grabs his hat as he walks to the door. Just before he leaves he turns around. "Hey, go back to sleep." He says. "It's still dark outside. I'll be back up later."

"Well…do you need any help or anything?" I ask.

"No, just rest. I'll try and keep it down for a while." He shuts the door and I hear his footsteps fade away as he goes to sign for his lettuce. I roll over and bury my head in Luke's covers. They smell good—a little like the woods—and soon I'm falling back to sleep.

* * *

I wake up again several hours later, this time to the sound of a ringing phone. Without thinking, I get up to answer it, cursing whoever is calling this early. I'm almost to the phone before I remember that this is Luke's apartment, and that whoever's calling is probably going to wonder why some girl is answering his phone at eight in the morning. I sit down on the couch and let the answering machine pick-up. 

"You've reached Luke Danes, leave a message." I hear his recorded voice say. After the beep there is a slight pause before I hear a woman's voice.

"Hey, it's me. I know you had that lettuce delivery this morning and that meeting last night, but you didn't call so I was just checking to see if everything's okay." I recognize Nicole's voice and stiffen up a little. Thank God I didn't answer, that would've been more than a little awkward—oh my God! How's she going to take it when last night gets out?

_Very badly; there'll be lots of pain and blood, and she'll get away with everything because she's a lawyer and knows how to work the system._

Nicole's voice continues on the machine. "I was going to try and come by for lunch if I can so we'll probably talk then, but give me a call if you get a chance this morning. I hope everything's alright with Lorelai and her inn. I'll talk to you later." A click as she hangs up. Oh my God, she knows I was meeting with him! Combine that with the fact that he didn't call… Okay, you know what? I'm not saying a word about this. Luke is going to have to explain this all by himself.

_Explain what? That you broke into hysterics, then asked to stay the night, and then tried to jump him after he took care of you. Luke should not have to explain that._

I know he shouldn't, but how would I explain that to her?

_Nicole, I'm in love with your husband and I think we belong together. You need to divorce him so I can have my chance. _

I would never do that! I'd…I'd at least have a little more tact.

_Please, when have we been known for tact?_

I sigh and lean back on the couch as I pick up the remote—anything to take my mind off those last few thoughts. But nothing is on TV.

I've been flipping channels and wallowing in my thoughts for about twenty minutes when the door opens quietly and Luke steps in with a mug and a plate of pancakes. He's walking quietly until he hears the TV and looks at me. "Morning," He sets the plate down on the coffee table and brings the mug to me.

"Thanks," I take a long sip and enjoy the little caffeine jolt that follows. My mind shakes off the cobwebs and begins to wake up. "Um, Nicole just called." I tell him as I take another sip before I set my cup down.

"Just now?" Luke asks, and I can't tell if he's nervous about this information or not.

"Yeah—I uh, let the machine get it." I point to the phone and get up. "I'm just; I need to use the restroom, so I'll be right back." I make it to the bathroom and lock the door before I stare into the mirror.

'_I need to use the restroom'? That was smooth._

I look at my reflection.

_Broom Hilda's back._

My eyes are puffy from the lack of sleep and my make-up is smeared from last night's events. I've got a headache, but not as bad as I would have thought.

_Building up a tolerance to the booze, are we?_

My hair is a mess and—dear God—are those crows' feet in the corners of my eyes? No, just make-up that's been dislodged by last night's tears. I let out a shaky breath and realize I'm tapping my fingers uncontrollably. Gah! What is wrong with me? Then I hear Luke's voice through the door.

"Hey Nicole…yeah, sorry about that. Things were a little hectic last night. What? ...Yeah, she's having a rough time right now…well, she's had to take a lot on by herself lately and…I don't really feel right talking about this behind her back…I know we're not really 'talking behind her back' but still…No it's okay. Mmm-hmm, she's fine. So you were going to come by for lunch?" There's a little laugh. "Oh my God, you're kidding me? That's hilarious… Yeah, the lettuce was a little wilty so I had a big argument with Robert about whether or not I should take it. Yeah, I finally got him to get a new bunch when I threatened to go to Jackson for all my vegetable needs…well, between the two of us I think we could strong-arm him into keeping the Iceberg since it's so much crisper…Yes, I got it just for you." I heard another little laugh. "Okay, I'll see you for lunch…bye."

I can't believe he would change lettuce types for her!

_He's married to her, and he's already changed the menus for her, and you don't eat salads anyways._

So? I like it on my burgers; I like its essence.

_Listen to yourself, are you sure you don't hate her? _

I know, calming down now. I wash up as best as I can and wait a few minutes before coming out of the bathroom. Luke is sitting against the near arm of the couch, and I can hear a man on the television saying "Next on Sportscenter…" He looks up and smiles a little. "Hey, your pancakes are gonna get cold if you wait any longer."

_Thank God, hang-over food._

"Thanks." I say as I grab the plate and sit down to his left. He hands me my coffee again and then turns back to Sportscenter. A man is behind a desk going over several 'key acquisitions;' babbling about ERA's, batting averages, and Spring Training. A highlight of the team standings flashes on the screen and I see Luke frown a little. "Damn Yankees." He grumbles

"I take it you're not a Ted Nugent fan." I say in between bites. _Mmm, chocolate chip._

"What?" he asks.

"You know, Ted Nugent. The rock star." I reply, but Luke is still drawing a blank so I try again. "He played in an eighties band called the Damn Yankees. They sang 'High Enough.'"

"Still don't know who you're talking about." Luke said.

"You know," I take a breath and begin to sing. "Can you take me high enough…"

"Oh, that song." He frowns again. "God, I hate that song. There was this punk who came into the diner everyday for lunch when it came out and he was always singing it or humming it and it drove me nuts."

"'This punk'?" I ask him with a smile.

"Yeah, he was a construction worker and a terrible singer and was always talking or making noise or asking questions." Luke was on a tear now. "And he always came in to get the orders for everyone else on his crew so he was there for at least half an hour, more if the diner was busy and I couldn't finish his order right away. And he'd never sit down. He just wandered around the floor, humming or singing that same damn song the entire time. I think his construction crew sent him to get the lunch orders just so they'd have a little peace and quiet." He pauses a moment. "Then one day he just stopped coming; I never saw him again. If you ask me someone on his crew pulled a Happy Gilmore and shot him with the nail gun. He deserved it too."

"How do you know about Happy Gilmore?" I ask through my laughter.

"Because the first time you saw it you and Rory came to the diner and re-enacted the entire movie, putting particular emphasis on the nail gun incident. Plus it was on USA the other night so it was fresh on my mind." Luke returns his focus to the television. I try to make sense of what he's watching, but all I can see is a blur of color and dust and then some guy swings and misses at a pitch. There's another cloud of dust and I hear Luke say to himself "there's a good play" and then the score is up.

"What just happened?" I ask.

"Where?"

"On the TV. What was such a good play?"

"Oh, the shortstop and second baseman just turned a double play on a tough ground ball up the middle." Luke says as if that should explain everything.

I stare at him a moment. "Yup, still don't understand." I shake my head and take another bite of pancakes.

Luke sighs and turns to face me. "Look, a double play means the team got two outs in one play—"

"Like a special." I interject enthusiastically.

"Yes, like a special." Luke's voice has that tone that let's me know he's indulging me just to finish the story. "The bases are here," Luke pokes his finger in the couch and makes four little indentations in the couch cushions.

"I know where the bases are." I huff. "I have been to the Saturday morning softball games, you know."

"Sorry, didn't think you remembered." Luke went on. "A ground ball means that it was bouncing along—"

"Thanks for the clarification." I deadpan.

Luke ignores my comment and keeps going. "And up the middle means that it came this way," He traces a line on the couch's imaginary field. "Past the pitcher's mound. The second baseman catches the ball, then tosses it to the shortstop, who tags the base and then throws it to the first baseman—"

"Who also tags the base?" I finish for him.

"Yes." Luke says.

"Cool, I feel so knowledgeable now. Next time I'm at Doose's I'll ask if they have a double play instead of a special."

"Let me know before you do, I want to see that." Luke chuckles a little.

I finish my pancakes and look into my empty mug. "Could I have some more coffee?"

"You don't need it." Luke doesn't miss a beat.

"Please." I plead.

"It's all the way downstairs." He grumbles.

"Just one more cup." I pout.

"Gah." Luke stands up and tosses me the remote before going downstairs. He comes back up with a full pot and sets it on the table next to the couch. "Here, I've got to get back to the diner." He says.

"Thank you." I say a little flirty.

"Yeah," He seems a little nervous all the sudden and then sits down next to me again. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, why?"

"No, I mean, after…last night…and all…are you alright?" Luke looks me in the eye.

"Ah, that."

"Yeah, that."

"I'm fine Luke." I say.

"But you're okay?" he asks again.

"Thanks to my knight in shining armor."

"Ah, well…"

"I just needed one big cry and a shoulder to lean on." I explain.

"Good." Luke is nervous again, glancing around.

"Hey," I take his hand. "Thank you. I'm glad it was you." Luke smiles like he doesn't really believe me. "I'm serious." I pat his shoulder. "See? Very strong shoulder. Thank you."

"Well, it's here when you need it." Luke replies. He squeezes my hand and then stands up. "I, uh, I need to get back to the diner. Do you need anything else?"

"A washcloth would be nice." I say, remembering my appearance.

"Sure." Luke goes to his closet and pulls a pale yellow washcloth out. He hands it to me. "Will this do?"

"Yeah, I'll shower when I get home—oh my God!"_ How the hell are we going to get home?_

I'm dressed in Luke's flannel—

_And boxers._

And the only way downstairs is through the diner.

"What?" Luke is as alarmed as I am now.

"How am I going to get home? How are we going to get past the town? I mean, Babette is my neighbor!"

"We can wait for a lull in the diner." Luke reasons.

"You mean one of those weird lulls that happen occasionally?" I say sarcastically.

"Yeah, usually the occasion is between ten and eleven-thirty in the morning. You can stay here until then." Luke says.

"And then what? I think people would notice if I walked home wearing your shirt; and my dress is out of commission until I can get to Comet Cleaners." I'm moving into panic mode now.

"I'll drive you home."

"I still have to get out the front door. There's no way we can pull this one off." I feel myself becoming hopeless.

"We'll go out the back. No one can see down the little alley."

"But…what if Babette sees you at home?"

_Don't you mean 'my house'?_

But I have no time to correct my Freudian slip.

"I've got my toolbox in the bed of my truck. Your porch rail is broken again, right?" He's nonchalant about it, trying to calm me down. He gently takes hold of my shoulders and looks at me. "Stay up here for a while and relax. You've got a whole pot of coffee, God help me, and even though I don't have satellite—"

"Yet." I tease, feeling better.

"Yet, I do have a TV and a few movies."

"You have movies?" I'm surprised now.

"Yes, I have movies." Luke says. "Over by the TV. I'm sure you'll just mock them all so I'd appreciate it if you would wait until I get back downstairs. There's a few CD's too if you really want to look around the apartment for them. Check the drawers or shelves. Just try to keep it down, and if worse comes to worst and you really need something, throw a book down the stairs and I'll come up."

"Okay," I agree. "Thank you."

"And you're fine?" Luke asks again.

"Yes, I'm fine." I smile a little at his persistence.

"Sorry, but you'll be hearing that from me a lot."

"Oh great." I reply sarcastically.

"Hey, I'm your friend and I care about you." He says with the hint of a smile and I remember these are the words I said to him last night. "I'll see you in a while." He says, and then he's out the door.

**

* * *

This story is written and finished, it's just a matter of proofing everything and getting it uploaded. Look for part two in a couple of days or so if things go according to plan.Then again,as we all know, the plan is merely the point from which we begin deviating. But have a little faith... **

I was a little unsure about referencing George Strait, but in the pilot when Lane is on the hayride they are playingthe song "Heartland"thathe sings for hismovie "Pure Country" in the background. It was totally coincidental and I didn't realize it until I saw a rerun. I'll take that as a sign that it's okay to throw aStrait reference in the mix.

To Sassyplatypus: If you don't want to see this continued then just let me know. No hard feelings.


	2. Luke Thoughts and Luke's Thoughts

**Author's Note: **I've always been careful about filling in the blanks of Luke's past. To me, the mystery of it was a big part of his character. But since they did such a bang-up job of creating a past in the sixth season…

I figure if that's the best they can come up with, I've got nothing to worry about. Raise your hand if you agree that the sixth season was a huge disappointment. Yep, it's pretty much unanimous.

But that horse is dead and beaten; so to get on with this story, here is the second chapter. I used a few lines from one of the episodes, but you'll recognize them when you see them. For a full disclaimer, see the first chapter.

"**So when I finished that last line, **

**I put the book by itself on the shelf with my heart in it.**

**Never wastin' time; takin' the right way home."**

'**Incommunicado,' Jimmy Buffett**

* * *

2. Luke Thoughts and Luke's Thoughts

I flip through the TV channels for about two more minutes before I decide that there really is nothing on. I leave it on Sportscenter so that I have a little background noise, and then go wash up in the bathroom. Staring into the mirror, all I can think is 'I like yellow.'

_Hey Jealousy, you think you'll be alright? You've already stayed the night._

Gah! After I finish I pour another cup of coffee from my personal pot and just start to wander slowly around the apartment, looking into random cabinets and shelf spaces. I used to do this as a kid when we went to dinner parties. I was nosey and curious and I guess I never really grew out of it. I spent hours wandering through big houses, getting lost in rooms or looking through really strange sock-drawers. I even found a secret room once. Nothing was in it, but it was there. Baseball is on the highlights again, so I sit down just to see if I can understand what's going on. I recognize a double play, but not much else. Apparently the Yankees are poised to run away with the division once again, I guess that happens every year. Several men argue about off-season trades and there is more talk about how teams are doing in spring training. About the only thing I find appealing is that the teams are playing in Florida, and the players are wearing baseball pants. When the segment is over I begin to look around again.

I walk through the kitchen and chance another peek into the fridge. Surprisingly, other than the Soy Dream it's a pretty normal sight. There's more vegetables than I would care for, but there are also leftovers which look really good and a few sodas in the back. I wonder vaguely if they're left over from when Jess lived here, since I can't remember Luke ever drinking soda. I close the fridge and look through a few more cabinets, more for a glass to get some water than for anything else. The Mega-Men protein powder turns up again and I can't help but laugh. I almost thought it was a joke the first time I'd seen it. Then in the very back of the top cabinet, behind a few glasses, I see it: a Folgers' coffee can.

_I can't believe he's been holding out on us the entire time. _

I stand on my tip-toes and am barely able to reach it. It feels really light—almost empty—and I set it down on the counter and quickly pull the lid off. But there's nothing in the can—no coffee at least. Instead, bits of paper fill the can to the brim. I pull one out and read it.

_Grade A large eggs—2 dozen for 99 cents. Only on Sunday and only at Doose's market. What the hell?_

I pull out another one.

_Ground beef— 95 cents per Lb. _

I check one more.

_Folgers' Coffee—2 dollars. _

I turn the can over and dozens of coupons pour out. They're definitely old; they're crinkled and brittle and starting to yellow. I check some of the expiration dates and notice that not one is newer than 1971. Most are from the late 1960's; some are older, but few are more recent than 1970. I put them back in the can and seal the lid, but my eye catches faded writing on the plastic. I squint in an effort to read the delicate writing. It was definitely a woman's…

_Coupons...it says coupons._

And then it dawns on me. I flashback to part of what Luke said when I told him I was marrying Max:

'_My parents didn't discuss a damn thing my entire childhood_. _Worked fine for them. Course when my mom died she didn't tell my dad where the coupon drawer was. It took him ten years to find it. Used a coffee can the whole time.'_

I'd always assumed that he meant his dad used a coffee can until they found the coupon drawer. But his mom had used a coffee can.

_No wonder it took them ten years to find the coupons._

I suddenly feel immoral, like a spy or a snoop. I look at the handwriting one more time and then put the can back in the cupboard.

I move to the side of the apartment where Jess used to live. There are a couple of CD's that he left and I glance through them absent-mindedly. The Ramones, Metallica, a few others that I've never heard of. A few books are on the shelf too. A couple Hemingway novels, _Great American Short Stories_…_The Fountainhead_? I pick it up and flip to the title page.

_Please give it one more try, for me._

It's signed by Rory. I flip the pages and find a book mark about three-quarters of the way through. The page has a paragraph underlined and a short note scribbled in the margin:

_What the hell? Ask Rory._

Well, he tried. But I can't say much else. I still have a difficult time when I think about all he put Rory and me and Luke through—what he put _us_ through.

_Us? You and Rory and Luke are an 'us' now? _

Of course we are, we've been an 'us' for a long time now. We're a unit, we're a…

_A what? A **family **unit? Please, give me a break._

We're a family-ish unit. We do rely on each other…

_And look where it's gotten us so far. You're hung over in his apartment after breaking down in front of him. Not to mention the fact that you were about to tell a **married** man that you love him. _

I set the book back down and continue along the shelf, past Jess' old 'Employee of the Month' plaque and the few other odds and ends that he left behind.

_Luke was right about Jess._

I remember when we were looking at that apartment that Taylor owned. Luke seemed pretty against moving, and it wasn't just because it would be a hassle. He didn't think Jess was going to stick around. Maybe he _knew_ Jess wouldn't stick around.

_Why waste the money and time and effort if it won't do any good? And he was right. When the dust had finally settled and the air had quickly cleared, Jess quit school and left in the middle of the night; and I know Luke didn't talk much about it but he blamed himself. That was a mess all the way around. Jess didn't even say goodbye so Luke came by to tell me and offer to tell Rory. And as sweet as that was, I know he would have totally lost it if he saw Rory cry. _

I come to a stack of CD's that must be Luke's. How do I know? I think the four CD boxed-set of Jimmy Buffett titled 'Boats, Beaches, Bars and Ballads' was the give away. I pick up the box and flip to the back to learn a little more about the Parrothead lifestyle. At the bottom is a handwritten note:

_Happy Birthday Luke. Love, Rachel._

And suddenly things are a little too serious, so I set it back down and keep looking. There's some more Jimmy Buffett on cassette tapes, some Jethro Tull—

_Remember to mock him about that later._

And a couple CD's from a band called The Gin Blossoms. But buried behind all that is an old vinyl record in an extremely beat up sleeve. I carefully pull it out to read the title:

"_I'll be home for Christmas" by Bing Crosby. _

I notice some writing on the sleeve but it's faded beyond recognition, so I put it back where I found it. It's probably out of sight for a reason, and I wonder if it has anything to do with his parents. I glance at the grandfather clock as I move across the room.

_It's only nine-twenty; I don't think we'll make it to ten o'clock at this rate._

I open a small cabinet near the television to look through the movies, and see that Luke was right; definite mocking potential.

_John Wayne is well represented here. The Sandlot? It sounds like a kids' movie… Oh. My. God! Is that a musical? It's South Pacific! There's dozens of musicals. Now if he actually had Seven Brides for Seven Brothers…_

Enough of that!

_Ooh, his guitar. I've never seen it move from that spot. I wonder if he can even play._

I walk to pick up the guitar and pass by his little trophy shrine. I laugh a little when I remember the picture I saw at Star's Hollow High; I can't believe I missed it when Rory went there. I need a copy so I can put it up in the diner on his birthday.

_When **is** his birthday?_

I…don't remember off the top of my head.

_You sure are a really great friend. Have we even asked?_

Yes,I asked him once around the time we first met, but I was begging for a cup of coffee so it's all a little fuzzy.

_We know he's a Scorpio…I bet Rory remembers. Mental note: find out when his birthday is and if he doesn't want to tell then beat him into submission if necessary._

Submission, dirty…

_No! Stop that; bad Luke thoughts. Just look at the trophies. _

My God, there are a lot of them. Track and baseball and even a hockey trophy. I see the two State Championship plaques he bragged about during all the hoopla when the Star's Hollow hockey team finally made it to the semifinals. There are a few autographed baseballs, and an old glove, but my eye catches a picture behind one of the plaques and I pull it out.

_Is that Luke?_

I look at the teenager in the picture.

_Almost didn't recognize him with the hat on correctly._

But it's most definitely Luke, I can tell from the fake smile and the 5 o'clock shadow on his face. He's in his Stars Hollow High baseball uniform and from the shadows in the picture it looks like it was taken toward the evening time. There's a date at the bottom.

_April 22, 1979—the Senior Game. That was on my birthday. What was I doing in 1979? I don't want to remember, that was so long ago. Before Rory, before things between my parents and I were ruined, before I knew Stars Hollow even existed._

The Stars Hollow High School baseball field is in the background, and standing next to Luke is a slightly shorter man in jeans and a worn button up shirt that has a tired face and sad eyes.

_That must be his dad. _

They both look uncomfortable in front of the camera, like they're just waiting for it to be over.

_Some things never change. _

I carefully put the picture back and pick up the guitar. I pull the pick from between the strings as I walk back over to the couch and test a few chords.

_Hmm, it's still in tune. Either he bought really good strings or he does play every once in a while._

I took a few lessons when I was a kid, during that whole rock-n-roll phase when I thought I was going to tour with The Go-Go's and The Bangles. Not that I can remember much, and I wasn't really very good anyways. I know a few songs from the 1960's, 'Mary Had a Little Lamb,' and not much else.

I'm plucking the strings and trying to remember the chords for 'Wonderful World' by Sam Cooke when Luke comes through the door and says, "Oh, it's you."

"Hey there," I give him a sexy smile. "Wanna hear a song?"

"You probably shouldn't play that right now." Luke has shut the door and is standing next to me. "Miss Patty thought I left my radio on upstairs and now I got to think of a group she's never heard of so I won't have to listen to a story about her dancing to the bongos with them."

"It's a good thing you said no, I can't remember any songs." I ignore his mini-rant. "Hey, can you play me a song?"

"Not right now."

"Pleeease?"

"No! Can you imagine what would happen if Miss Patty heard me and then came up to see what was going on?"

_That could be bad._ "Fine, but you're not off the hook. I'm looking forward to a big performance later." I smile.

"Dirty…" Luke mumbles and tries to take the guitar away from me, but I hold on tight and he gives up after a moment.

I laugh to myself because he doesn't even realize what he said. "The Gin Blossoms!" I suddenly say excitedly.

"Shh!" he puts his finger to his mouth. "What did you say?"

"The Gin Blossoms. I've never heard of them and I'm the pop culture queen. I'm sure Miss Patty hasn't either."

"How do _you_ know about The Gin Blossoms?" Luke looks a little amused.

"There was a CD on one of your shelves."

"You went through my shelves?" Luke looks at me with puckered eyebrows.

"Hey, you said I could look for CD's if I wanted to." I defend myself, then quickly change the subject, "What's a gin blossom?"

"Nothing." He pries the guitar away from me and puts it back in the corner.

"They sound pretty." I'm flirting again; then I say in my southern belle accent. "Is it anything like a Georgia peach?"

"Definitely not." Luke snorts with a half smile.

"Well then what is it?" Now I'm really curious.

"You get gin blossoms when you drink too much. They make your nose turn red like Rudolph's."

"Ugh." That's a little disgusting.

"Yes, 'ugh.'" Luke agrees as he walks back to me. "Now look. Don't play the guitar, don't turn the TV up. If people hear you then our plan is useless. Read a book or something if you don't want to watch TV."

"Man." I say disappointedly. "I'm bored."

"You couldn't find a movie to mock?" He seems a little surprised.

"Oh I found the movies Mr. Hammerstein." I smile.

He shakes his head. "You found the musicals."

"I sure did. We're going to have to have another movie night real soon."

"Whatever." Luke moves back to the door. "The crowd is thinning out so it'll probably only be about fifteen or twenty minutes. Think you'll survive?"

"I'll try." I smile. Luke grunts goodbye and then goes downstairs. But thirty seconds later the television cannot hold my interest any longer and I return to snooping around the apartment.

_Let's see, we left off at the trophy shrine…_

I make my way to the two tiny nightstands, one on each side of the bed. The drawers are cracked open just a hair and pieces of paper are barely visible. As an intense internal debate rages, my curiosity gets the best of me and I slowly reach out to the drawer of the nightstand with the alarm on it.

_You know, we shouldn't be going through his stuff_.

Why not? He said we could check the drawers, and he doesn't really live up here anyways.

_That's right; he lives in Litchfield, with his wife._

Wow, that's a downer. I glance back to the drawer and a small stack of forms catches my eye.

_Is this the inventory for the diner? He so needs to add mallowmars to the dessert column. _

I pull out the forms and my breath hitches. It's his divorce papers, half-way filled out. He didn't even finish writing his name in the last blank on the third page. My mind flashes through the days since Rory and I made it back to Stars Hollow and Luke Dropped the Matrimony Bomb. He was supposed to get a divorce. He was supposed to finish this.

_Whoa, where's that coming from_.

He promised us. He told us that they were getting a divorce and that would be the end of his relationship with Nicole. But she convinced him to put it on hold; avoid the 'hassle' of finishing all this paperwork. Then I made a fool of myself in front of her because I didn't know that they were still seeing each other. And then I made a bigger fool of myself in that fight with Luke later that night.

_You really shouldn't have been so upset that night. You shouldn't be that upset right now._

But he didn't tell me! I told him when I was getting married to Max.

_Very reluctantly, and then you passed the buck to Sookie when you called it off._

I was out of town.

_You could have dialed the diner just as easily as Sookie's cell. _

I talked to him about Christopher. That was really hard. We were still fighting about the car accident and it was a very, very bad weekend.

_You were looking for forgiveness. You hurt him that night, more than he ever let on. You questioned years of friendship and everything he'd ever done for you and Rory because of what his nephew did. _

He knew that Jess made me uncomfortable. He never should have put those two in that position.

_And then Rory told you the whole story and you realized that you shouldn't have cast doubt on how much he cared about us. He sent Jess away the next day, but he wouldn't talk to you. _

When I ran into him in Doose's he wouldn't even look at me, and he sounded so defeated—like he'd given up.

_Then_ _Chris hurt you again and you were looking for some sympathy. He had always been there before and you wanted to be able to go to him again. _

And thank God he took pity on me.

_But we're getting off on a tangent. You like to talk about your relationships; Luke likes to keep his private._

Which is why I didn't know he had a townhouse until three weeks after he moved. That was big, life-changing news; I can't believe he kept that to himself. And he couldn't understand that I just wanted to be in the loop. He passed it off so nonchalantly, like it made no difference that he lives in another county now. Ugh! It really hurt to find out like that. 'Why do you care?' He kept asking. 'How much adjusting did you have to do?'

_Not much, because even though he 'moved' he still spent most nights in Stars Hollow. _

But that's not the point!

_Then what is? _

Moving made it real. It made his marriage real and I don't like that it's real now. I slam the papers back into the drawer and fall across the bed.

_Why **do** you care?_

…

_Still can't think of a good reason?_

I'm afraid to think of a good reason. I'm afraid I don't have a good reason.

_See? You want to have your cake and eat it too._

Ugh, I am petty and shallow. I roll over onto my stomach and come face to face with the other nightstand.

There's nothing in this one— but on the tiny shelf at the bottom of the stand is a small leather-bound notebook. I flip through the pages back-to-front, but nothing is written. All the pages are—well, not all the pages are blank. There's writing on the first two or three. The first few paragraphs look like…a kid's handwriting?I study the words and they look just like the writing on Luke's divorce papers. A little more blocky and unsure, but it's got that distinctive Luke style: a sloping combination of script and print that loops the letters together beautifully.

_He really does have great handwriting; easy to read and pleasing to the eye. _

I return to the first page and can't resist reading a few words.

_Dear Diary, _

_I can't believe Mom got me a diary for my ninth birthday! I'm a grown man for Pete's sake!_

I can't help but laugh at this.

_Dad says Grandpa Joe kept a diary when he was overseas, but that was for The War. Mom says girls like a 'sensitive' man who can talk about his feelings. She said I should write down important days so I'll remember how I felt. But I feel stupid writing about how I feel. And I'm going to be a baseball player or a carpenter so I won't have time to be sensitive. Besides, Grandpa Danes was in The War too and he didn't keep a diary. He said he didn't need to write anything down to remember what happened. I'm done sharing feelings. I'm going to go play with my new skateboard._

Some things about Luke never change, but I can't figure out if that's good or bad. The rest of the page is filled with a list of family members and other people to send thank-you notes, and I'm surprised to realize that I know some of the people on the list. Miss Patty, Mia, and Babette are a few of the names I recognize. An absurd image of Luke passing out thank-you notes on his skateboard comes to mind and I smile and turn the page. This time there is a date, but no greeting.

_Oct. 4, 1970_

_Mom is really sick again. The doctors can't figure out what is wrong and she is staying at the hospital more than at home. I miss her. Liz is crying a lot so Dad and I have to watch her. I asked Dad why Liz and Mom cry all the time and he told me that's just how girls deal with sadness. But that's not how men deal with sadness—Dad's made that clear. He sat me down and told me not to cry, especially in front of Liz or Mom because that would make them feel worse. How do we deal with all this? We do inventory and go to the batting cages. I wish Grandpa Danes were still alive. We could use the help with the hardware store._

There's a little space before the next entry.

_Mar. 4, 1971_

_Mom died yesterday and Liz hasn't stopped crying since. Dad's been trying to arrange the funeral, but the weather is bad and everyone in town keeps getting in his way. Finally he just locked himself upstairs to finish while I ran the store for a couple hours. Miss Patty stayed with Liz today and Babette made us dinner tonight. Bud and Maizie are coming into town tomorrow and are going to be with us for the rest of the week. I cried last night. I didn't want Dad to see so I locked my door. I know men don't cry but I can't believe Mom is gone. _

Now I'm close to crying. After a few unsteady breaths, I pull myself together. Ten years separate his mom's death from the next entry.

_Aug. 5, 1981_

_I turned down the baseball offer from Connecticut State yesterday. I wish I could've gone but Dad needs help here, he's got a bad cough again—Bronchitis or something like that. I'll stay here another year and try out again next summer. _

_Dec. 5, 1981_

_I buried Dad today. It was a big funeral, but Liz didn't come—she wouldn't even return my calls and as far as I know she's still on the west coast or looking for Jimmy. I spent the last five nights before dad died in that damn hospital with him, but he told me to go home on the thirtieth. I ended up spending all night in the store talking with Rachel and when I made it to his room the next day they told me he'd passed the night before. I can't believe I wasn't there for him—that I left him alone when he needed someone to be there for him the most. Rachel thinks I need to hug it out and cry or something like that, but she should know me better than that. I don't need to cry or anything. I'm just tired of hospitals, I'm tired of caring, I'm tired of hearing people say they're sorry. I just need to get away for a while. _

Now I'm crying quietly. I wipe my eyes and try not to let the tears hit the pages. The next entry comes from 1996.

_Feb. 3_

_Rachel left again and I'm pretty sure she's not coming back. She left in the middle of the night. Miss Patty had to tell me that she'd gone. She said she saw Rachel by the bus stop around ten but no one has seen her since. Rachel told me she was committed—that she was ready to settle down, and I believed her this time. I don't want to go through this again, not with anyone. I still haven't heard from Liz—it's been about six months now since the last time we even spoke. People ask me how I feel, but the truth is I can't really express it. Sometimes I'm sure I'm headed for clinical depression._

No wonder Rachel felt like Miss Patty was waiting for her to screw up. No wonder Luke was so upset when Jess left the way he did.

_May 8, 1996_

_Miss Patty rooked me into helping Lorelai move into her new house. I think Miss Patty's turned me into her personal project since Rachel left and for some reason she's got it in her head that Lorelai is my soul-mate. Yes, she's beautiful, but dear God she drinks a lot of coffee. At least she's got a good sense of humor. And Rory? Definitely her mother's daughter. Just as crazy, but much more polite—why or how that happened I'll never know. They moved in next to Babette so all day I heard her and Miss Patty talking about my 'assets.' Every time Lorelai and Rory walked by, Miss Patty would stop them and whisper something girly and then all four of them would giggle hysterically. Lorelai finally sent Rory inside to tell me where everything should go—I can only imagine that it was to shield her young ears. And Lorelai's house? It's a nice house, but God—if I lived there I'd be doing little fix-it jobs for the rest of my life. Good thing I'm a handyman._

He was right—thank God he is a handyman. So that's what he thinks of me.

_Or did think; when we first met. _

He thinks I'm beautiful.

_He used to think you were beautiful, and apparently he's always thought that you were crazy. _

There's one more entry:

_Oct 9, 2001_

_Rachel has come and gone again and Lorelai just told me she's getting married. I can't say either one of those are shockers, but it's depressing to realize that after five years nothing has changed. _

What the hell does **that **mean? I flip through a couple more pages, but that's it. Nothing about his marriage, nothing about breaking the bells. And it's all so cryptic. He writes down the obvious thoughts but doesn't analyze them. Nothing about why he feels the way he feels, no pro/con lists. The whole point of a diary is to analyze your thoughts and emotions and get it all on paper to help you think things through.

_Maybe that's why you always overanalyze everything. Did you ever think of that?_

I glance at the clock and realize that it's almost ten. I quickly put the notebook away and crash onto the couch to make it look like I've been watching television, but my mind is trying to wrap itself around everything I've learned about Luke.

* * *

**I based the date of Lorelai's birthday as best as I could according to the original airdate of the episode of Lorelai's birthday parties in season three since I don't remember the show giving a specific date for it. If you think the idea of Luke having a journal is a little OOC, let me try to put it in perspective: Luke honors his father's memory with the way he left all his father's stuff up in the diner. Also, just because Luke isn't a touchy-feely kind of guy doesn't mean he isn't introspective--I should know. Using these facts, it stands to reason that if his mother had given him a journal to write important days in, then he would honor his mother by doing this.**

**The little story about gin blossoms is true, so alcoholics beware (Unfortunately, I didn't know this until _after_ I started drinking).**

**Bonus points to those of you who could pick out the reference to the Gin Blossoms song and the Jimmy Buffett song. I like to drop those kinds of things into writing. Super special bonus points if you can name the song and the album that it comes from.**

**To those of you who also read gilmoregirl1979 stories, I swear that little bit about Lorelai and Rory and Luke being an 'us' came to me before I read her chapter of WITS. But isn't it freaky that we both thought of that…**

**Finally, I'm sure I'm taking this in a different direction than most would have gone, but bear with me, I've got a plan…sort of.**


	3. Breakout

**Author's Note: **A shorter chapter heavier on the dialogue. The finished story is six chapters long, so by the end of this chapter we'll be halfway through this odyssey. Many thanks to those of you who took the time to review; it is nice to get a little feedback and I'm glad for the positive response to the story. Because I really do take the time to read the reviews, let me address a couple people:

**Javamaniac: **Thank you for pointing out the 'sum it up' thing. I proofed it a thousand times but my tired eyes didn't catch the misspell. It really gets me when I see things like that in other fics, so I guess this is God's way of giving me a taste of my own medicine. Kind of ironic, no?

**minor-thing: **The original story Blame It On Speculation by Sassyplatypus is saved under my favorite stories of my profile page. You can check it out from there. I'm sorry you don't like using italics for character's thoughts, so this chapter is light on italics. I deliberated between a few different ways to mark character's thoughts, but italics turned out to be the best way in order to stay true to the original story and keep confusion to a (relative) minimum. So, beware, the rest of the story will have italics.

In case you were wondering about the quotes from the songs, the Gin Blossoms quote comes from their song 'Hey Jealousy' which is on the awesome album titled 'New Miserable Experience,' and the Jimmy Buffett quote comes the song 'Miss You So Badly' off his landmark album 'Changes In Latitudes, Changes In Attitudes,' which is quite possibly the best album he made. If you weren't wondering about the songs, then I guess you just got a little useless trivia information. But enough's enough, here is the story…

* * *

"'**Cause all I really want's to be with you,**

**And feel like I matter too.**

**If I hadn't blown the whole thing years ago,**

**I might be here with you."**

'**Hey Jealousy,' The Gin Blossoms**

3. Breakout

A couple minutes later Luke comes up and gives me a questioning look. "You're actually watching sports?"

Crap, forgot to change the channel. "Well, yeah." I say. "I'm trying to expand on the knowledge you gave me this morning."

"So what else have you learned?" Luke asks with a small laugh.

"That you should wear tighter pants." I say with a flirty smile.

"I'll get right on it." Luke says as he walks to his dresser.

_Whoa, if only we'd asked that last night._

"Luke, you…uh…don't have to do that right now." I stammer out.

"What?" He looks confused, and then it hits him. "No, I'm looking for some sweatpants for you, its cool outside."

"Oh." Now I'm a little disappointed.

"Do you…" Luke stops himself mid-sentence. "No, I know you don't have any socks." And he's digging through his drawer again.

"They don't go too well with Jimmy Choo's." I quip.

"Here—sorry, but I don't have any sandals you can borrow." He hands me the sweats and a pair of thick wool socks before grabbing a small plastic bag from under the counter.

"Socks with sandals?" I scrunch my face at his fashion sense. He stops what he's doing and gives me a look that says 'don't start with me.' "Never mind…" I say. I pull the sweatpants on as he steps into the bathroom and then comes back out with my dress carefully folded in the bag and my shoes protruding out of the top.

"Thanks." I say, reaching out to take it from him so he doesn't have to hold a dress anymore.

"I got it." He says as he picks up a few more things.

"I didn't know you liked it that much." I smile.

"It's pretty." He shoots back with a smile and for a moment I lose my train of thought. "You got your purse?" he asks.

I nod and we move downstairs, where I notice that the blinds are closed. "What's the deal?" I ask as I point to the windows.

"Well, it would kind of blow our cover if someone looked through the window just as we were coming down." Luke explains. "Meet me in the storage room." He tells me as he pulls out a to-go cup.

"_Dirty_." I laugh.

"Jeez." He grumbles and begins to pour the coffee.

"What about insurance?" I tease.

"Watch out for falling boxes." Luke commands as he hands me the cup and leads me to the back door. "Hold on." He whispers and stops me at the threshold. After a quick look up and down the small alley he quietly walks to the passenger side.

"Am I driving?" I ask.

"No—I got a better view down the alley from here." Luke says.

"Good, cause your truck doesn't like me."

"Shh!" He looks around one more time. "Now!" he whispers. "Come on." He's waving his hands to hurry me up. I go around the back of the truck and he helps me in before sprinting to the driver's side and starting the engine.

"Go! Go! Go!" I'm laughing now at how serious Luke is taking our situation. It takes a few seconds for the engine to turn over. "You should've started the truck before we came down!"

"Well, next time we'll know." He's concentrating on getting the truck in gear so I let the comment pass.

We make it down the street without being seen and he pulls into my driveway. I look over at him, "Okay, you get the dress and I'll open the door. Ready?"

"Ready." He says.

"Break!" I jump out of the truck and run the few steps up to my door. The keys are already in my hand and the door swings open right away. Luke comes in with my dress and a brown paper bag. "Ah, you brought lunch?" I ask.

"Well…yeah." He shakes the plastic bag. "Take your dress and I'll put the bag on the table."

I set the dress down by the door and wait a few seconds for him to come back from the kitchen. "So that was fun." I try to joke.

"Oh yeah," he deadpans as he comes back to the door.

"Thank you Luke." We're standing close again, and I'm nervous.

"Yeah…" Luke rubs his neck. "Are you okay here?"

"You mean in my house? Yeah, I think I'll survive." I'm beginning to babble again, but Luke stops me.

"No, I mean…your fine?" Concern is in his voice again.

"Yeah," I answer. Then it hits me—the check! "Crap! I forgot to grab the check."

"I've got it." He pulls it out of his pocket and moves closer to hand it to me. "I'm sure you want to talk about terms and stuff, but we'll do that later, okay? Concentrate on your inn first and we can try another meeting if you really feel like we need to." He's talking low; like we're cementing a shady back-door deal and he doesn't want anyone to find out what he's done. I suddenly feel like I've stepped in to The Godfather.

"Thank you." I sniffle as I take it.

"Ahh, hey, no more crying." Luke looks slightly panicked and then pulls me into a hug. I let myself fall into him and stop my crying.

_Good, strong shoulder._

We stay like this for a minute and then he pulls far enough away to look me in the eye. "It's okay." He says in the same tone he used last night. I look into his eyes and see that he cares. Really and truly cares. I can't say anything; I can't even stop staring at him. All I can do is smile shyly because I want to kiss him again, but I can't. At least, I can't kiss him like I want to. So I move my hands to his shoulders and stand on my tip-toes. "Thank you." I whisper, and then gently kiss his stubbled cheek. I open my eyes—

_When did we close our eyes?_

And see him staring back, a little shocked by what I just did.

For just a second I think he'll kiss me back. Instead he blinks slowly and whispers. "Your welcome." Then he loosens his hold. "I should go." He is still looking into my eyes.

"Yeah," I let go and take a step back. "I'll see you later."

He pauses at the door. "Call if you need anything."

"I will." I tell him. He flashes a small smile and then closes the door as he walks back to his truck.

And as I walk over to the couch I realize I'm crying again, because I finally know why I care. If he wasn't married I could have been honest with him about how I feel and I **know** that he would've kissed me back, and _that_ moment would've been perfect.

* * *

**Chapter four will take a little longer to proof and polish, so look for it in a few days. **


	4. Lunchtime Confessions

**Author's Note: **You'll have to forgive me for not updating quickly; since this week I worked overnights (9 p.m. to 6 a.m.) it's been difficult to write. But I've managed to get this chapter up to speed and want to get it out since I'll probably work the same schedule next week.

This chapter really sets the stage for the final two, which I'm in the process of editing as we speak. Even though the fourth season never shows that Lorelai told Sookie how she got the money, we'll assume she did since they are close friends. Because of that, the timeline may seem a little out of synch with the fourth season, but I assure you it's not.

As a teaser, both of the final chapters involve elements of the episodes that occurred right after 'The Incredible Shrinking Lorelais.' However, I've bent a few events to suit the needs of this fic, and Gilmore Time has again proved my undoing, so please be patient as I try to reconcile all these components into a believable story.

On to the main event…

* * *

"**Now I've thrown something far,**

**And it haunts me like a curse.**

**I'm like a stone falling hard,**

**And I'm only getting worse."**

'**Competition Smile,' The Gin Blossoms**

4. Lunchtime Confessions

_(A couple of days later. Sookie and Lorelai are discussing the inn at Lorelai's house.)_

"I would've loved to have seen how you got him to agree to give us thirty thousand dollars." Sookie laughs a little as she finishes up heating leftover Chinese food.

"Well it wasn't pretty, that's for sure." I try to play it off.

"You didn't cry did you?" Sookie jokes as she sets our lunch on my kitchen table.

"No." I deny.

"Well, come on then. How'd you do it? You've been keeping this from me for two days. Every time I bring it up you just shoot me down or change the subject. And for someone who complained a short while ago about a certain diner man working for the CIA, I have to say that you're giving him a run for his money." She giggles at that. "No pun intended."

"I'd rather not talk about that. We've got the money so let's focus on paying off these bills so Tom can pay his crew." I pick up my pencil and start to go over invoice details again.

"Come on Lorelai, what's going on?" Sookie sounds a little frustrated. "Why won't you just tell me how we got this money?"

"I don't want to talk about it!" I slam the pencil down and walk to the living room. I know I'm overreacting but I don't care. With a sigh I lie down on the couch and rub my forehead. My head is against the armrest and my feet are at the far end of the couch. I'm starting to get a cluster headache over my left eye as I realize that I'll have to tell Sookie how I managed to convince Luke to give us the money. A minute later Sookie finally comes out of the kitchen, gently moves my feet aside, and sits down.

"Okay." She pats my feet. "I want to know what happened that night, 'cause you're beginning to freak me out here."

I know Sookie's concerned, but I wish she would drop it. I open my eyes and see she is waiting for an answer.

"It was just a really bad night." I begin. "And I was feeling a little overwhelmed because I hadn't seen Rory in a while and I had another terrible dinner at my parents' house so I told him I wanted to cancel our dinner. But instead of going home I ended up having a major freak-out in the middle of the street and Luke had to calm me down."

"What do you mean?" Sookie asks.

"I just…broke down. I started sobbing and blubbering about not seeing Rory and having so much to do, and somewhere in there I told him I was going to ask for thirty thousand dollars. So Luke has to hold me while I cry my eyes out, and then…"

_I don't think she needs the full version; not yet anyways._

"…eventually he takes me home and the next morning I'm holding a check from him for thirty thousand dollars."

Sookie has a look somewhere between fear and amazement. "Wow." Is all she can get out.

"That was basically my reaction. After the crying and the hysterics."

_And the realization that we love him._

"I'm fine now, Sookie. Believe me. I'm just embarrassed about the whole thing."

"Why didn't you call me when you got home?" Sookie asks.

_Because we spent the night with Luke. _"I just…the whole night was a blur and after I got through crying to Luke I just needed to…process everything."

"I wish you hadn't spent the night alone." Sookie says.

_We weren't alone._ "No—I mean…I was fine. Luke did a pretty good job of cheering me up."

"Really?" Sookie sounds like she doesn't believe me.

"Yeah," I remember with a smile. "Some comfort, some tough love, a little bucking up and a motivational speech."

"All this from Luke?"

"Yep."

"Wow." Sookie repeats. "I didn't know he could be so…" she trails off, unable to find the word.

"Comforting?" I finish. "Calming? Safe?"

"It just seems so…un-Luke." Sookie thinks aloud. "I mean, I know he's a good guy, but that seems beyond the call of duty there."

"It was." I agree.

_It was not the normal Luke, but I don't think it was un-Luke._

Sookie is quiet for several moments before she looks at me again. "And you're fine now?"

"Yes." I assure her. "Luke makes sure I've got my coffee and my sanity every time I go into the diner. I'd really rather not talk about it anymore."

"Alright," Sookie says. "Do you want to finish lunch now?"

"Yes." I stand up and Sookie gives me a tight hug before we get back to work.

* * *

Several hours later Sookie and I trail into Luke's with my laptop and a file-folder full of paperwork to go over. We set up shop next to the register and Luke has already pulled my coffee mug out from beneath the counter. He looks at all our stuff and asks, "Why don't you just commandeer a table again?"

"I need an internet connection tonight." I explain. "So I hope you're ready for some more limbo."

"Jeez." Luke grabs a bunch of menus and hands them to me. "See if you can get the cord a little higher this time." He picks up the coffee pot and leaves to check on the other customers.

We get set up and work for a few minutes before I notice that it's almost six o'clock. "Hey Luke, come here!"

"Just a minute." He's passing out plates and trying to fill a couple coffee cups.

"Hurry up!" Isay impatiently. Sookie nudges my elbow.

"What's going on?" she asks.

"Just got to show him something." I tell her.

"You ready to order?" Luke goes around the counter and under the cord.

"Shh." I grab his shirt sleeve and pull him close so that he's leaning on the counter. "Listen to this." I push a few buttons and my laptop makes a loud beeping sound. "Agh! Not that." I quickly exit out of whatever program I just opened and try again.

"What am I listening for?" Luke cranes his neck to try and see my screen but I swat him away. "Ow!" He backs off a little.

"It's a surprise." I tell him, still concentrating on my screen.

"How long does it take this surprise to load? 'Cause I'm a little short tonight since Lane is off." Luke scans the diner as he talks.

"Not long…" I look up from the screen. "Ooh, here we go! Three…two…one…" I turn the volume all the way up and a man's voice comes through the speakers.

"Turn it down—" Luke stops talking as a song fills the diner. A smile creeps across his face and then he laughs out loud. "Oh my God," is all he can get out.

"Recognize it?" I ask knowingly.

"Yeah." He's still smiling.

"Who is it?" Sookie asks.

"Jimmy Buffett." Luke answers.

"What song?" I quiz him.

"'Changes in Latitudes, Changes in Attitudes.'" Luke replies. "Where did you find this?" He asks me.

"Well, brace yourself, Luke. I have found the official Parrothead network." I begin.

"What's a Parrothead?" Sookie wonders.

"A Jimmy Buffett fan." I explain before turning back to Luke. "This is and three times a day they play an hour of nothing but Jimmy Buffett songs."

"A whole hour?" Luke asks, and I nod back. "What possessed you to find this?"

"I figure anyone who writes a song about margaritas is a cool guy." I say. "Plus, it's just a little 'thank you' in return for…you know…the last few days." My eyes fall to the counter for a moment. "So, do you want to listen to it?"

"Sure." Luke refills my mug. "You know what you want for dinner?"

"Cheeseburger and fries." I decide.

"I'll have what she's having." Sookie says.

"Coming right up." Luke went into the kitchen.

"Did I just hear him humming?" Sookie whispers to me.

"I think so." I smile.

About ten minutes later Luke comes by with the food. "Enjoy." As he sets the plates down a new song begins and he chuckles a little. "This is your song." He tells me as he walks off.

"What?" I try to get him to explain, but then I hear the words in the song: 'Cheeseburger in paradise, medium rare with mustard be nice…'

_Ah, that's why it's our song. I love it._

Sookie starts laughing. "Is he singing about food?"

"I think it's cute." I say.

"Of course you do. It's _your _song."

I ignore the obvious overtures in Sookie's statement. "Ooh, Luke, I heard that song you referenced the other night, very clever by the way." I wiggle my eyebrows.

"When was this?" Sookie asks.

"Um, it was after my little meltdown." I admit.

"Oh." I can tell Sookie wants me to explain, but thankfully she doesn't press me for answers.

* * *

We finish dinner and try to organize things for the inn, but it's nearly seven o'clock before the crowd starts to thin out and we are able to concentrate. Luke comes by to fill my cup for the third time. "I should just leave this with you like the other morning." He grouses as he pours.

"What?" Sookie perks up a little.

_Red flag! Danger Will Robinson!_

But he stops my rising concern. "Oh, she just wouldn't take no for an answer." Luke says without missing a beat. Good save Brodeur,I think, remembering the hockey highlights I'd seen on Sportscenter. Luke continues in a gruff voice. "It was just easier to leave the pot than listen to Scarlett O'Hara beg for coffee every five minutes."

_Okay, no need to paint me as a psycho…_

Sookie smiles a little at this and turns to me. "You should be nicer to him."

"I'm very nice to him—which reminds me." I turn to Luke. "I even washed your clothes. You can have your socks back tomorrow but I'm keeping the flannel forever." Luke looks extremely uncomfortable…

_We might be in trouble with that comment._ _How loud did I say that?_

"What!" Sookie yells, and the diner goes silent. "Sorry." She tells everyone, and they return to their own conversations.

I keep my voice low as I talk to Sookie. "Uh, it was really cold out the other night, so Luke let me borrow a shirt on the way home." I tried. Sookie just stares at me.

_She isn't buying it._

"And the socks?" she asks pointedly.

"My feet were cold." I offer.

"She didn't have socks." Luke jumps in. "They didn't go with her Jimmy Choo's. I didn't want her to—you know—lose any toes…"

_Man, we're flat-lining here._

Luke continues. "It was when Lorelai asked for help with the inn."

_I don't think that makes it sound any better. _

"Oh." Sookie seems to understand a little.

"It was a rough night." I remind her.

"I've…got to check on everyone else." Luke excuses himself. As soon as he is out of whispering range Sookie turns to me.

"What happened?" she tries to keep her voice down but it's nearly frantic. "Because all of the sudden it seems like I'm missing a huge part of what really went on that night."

_And the next morning._ "It's a really complicated story."

"Well, time is on my side." Sookie tells me.

"I'm not talking about it in the diner." I motion to the people still in it. "Let's go to my house." I'm leaving some money on the counter when Luke comes by again.

"You guys are going?" He seems a little nervous.

"Yeah, we're just—we got some things to finish up tonight that we left at my place."

"Okay…"

"Everything's fine. I'll see you tomorrow." I rush to get out the door.

"I want my flannel back too." I can't tell if Luke is joking or just trying to hold the fabric of our flimsy story together.

"Then come and get it." I cringe at my phrase.

_Dirty!_

"Err, we'll see about that. Bye" Sookie and I are out the door before he can answer.

**Yes, I know, shameless advertising for But hey, it fit into the story. And check out the website if you want to hear some Buffett… Despite that weird schedule, look for an update within three or four days. Thanks for sticking with the story.**


	5. Meltdown In the House

**Author's Note: **The penultimate chapter! I felt like the last chapter was a little weak but am glad to see it was well received. Hopefully this one will measure up. This was difficult to write and still have it come across as believable, especially the Lorelai/Sookie dialogue. It was even more difficult to find a quote to start the chapter off. Here is where Gilmore Time comes into effect. I've built these last two chapters around events from the next couple of episodes in the fourth season after 'The Incredible Shrinking Lorelais' so watch those episodes if you really need some background setting.

Also, remember that I'm going off a few conditions that Sassyplatypus built into her fic; most importantly that Luke has lived abroad—though not for very long—with Rachel at one time in his life, and Lorelai has realized that she loves Luke.

Finally, I've gotta say this:

**Puffingnoise: **Yes, I remember the Gin Blossoms were very popular for a few years, but unfortunately they dropped out of the public eye when they broke up and they've really only had a cult following since, plus Lorelai would've had her hands full with a eight or nine year old kid, so that's my reasoning for her not having heard of them. I guess that is a bit of a stretch, so maybe we'll say she's heard of them but can't really remember them. Hopefully all that will change since their putting out a new CD that'll be available in August. I've heard some of the new tracks and it sounds pretty good. It's so cool that you've been listening to them; I've got a lot of unreleased and rare tracks I've been listening in addition to their studio CD's.Check out their website to hear their new single 'Learning the Hard Way.' I didn't plan it this way, but it seems that nearly all of my quotes are coming from their songs. Interesting...

**Bellybuttonsrcool**: You are officially the coolest reviewer I've had. Your Jimmy Buffett trivia surpasses even mine, and I must say I'm slightly envious of the stories you could tell (Did you catch the subtle drop of the Buffett song title). I've driven through the Mobile area but never been able to stop there. Next time I come through I may just have to look you up so you can give me a tour. Fins Up!

* * *

"**There's no intentions worthy of mention, **

**If we never try.**

**So hang your hopes on rusted-out hinges, **

**Take them for a ride." **

'**Twenty-nine,' The Gin Blossoms**

5. Meltdown in the House

I cover most of the night in a hushed voice on the way home. The entire meltdown, asking to stay, and the ultra-dirty incident all hold Sookie's undivided attention. "I think he took it all fairly well." Sookie smiles as we come through the front door.

"Yes, and then I found the check." I begin.

"Well weren't you supposed to find the check?"

"Not until the morning."

"Ah," Sookie sits down on the couch and I join her. "What happened?"

"I basically tried to jump him in his sleep." I cover my face at the memory.

"I'll bet that was surprising." Sookie wiggles his eyebrows.

"Well, he was a little freaked when he woke up and saw me standing over him like Cathy Bates."

"And then?"

I cringe at what I did next. "I told him I love him."

"Oh my God!" Sookie screams.

I try to calm her down, "But he didn't take me seriously. He thought I was being emotional, so he told me a story and then sat with me all night."

"Why wouldn't he take you seriously?" Sookie is incredulous.

"Because I _was_ emotional."

"But," Sookie pauses, unsure of whether to ask. "Were you serious?"

_For once._

"Yes," I sigh. "But he hasn't asked about it so I'm not going to bring it up."

"Why not!" Sookie yells. "You love him! I can't believe this!" Then she goes quiet. "Oh my God," she says in a low voice. Her face becomes heartbreaking, "Oh my God."

"What?" Now I'm starting to get nervous.

"Nicole." Sookie says.

"Yeah, Nicole." I sigh again. "She called him in the morning, while I was still there and he was downstairs. I heard her leave the message. It was so…surreal."

"Good thing you didn't answer the phone." Sookie thinks out loud.

"I almost did. And then I overheard some of their conversation when he called her back. I just felt so awkward and, I don't know, depressed." I rub my forehead.

"How did you get home without being seen?"

"Luke drove me. We pulled a _Great Escape_ and made it inside my house without anyone noticing. That was a miracle." I laugh a little. "And then I kissed him goodbye and that was that."

Sookie's eyes go wide with surprise and I clarify, "I kissed him on the cheek, Sookie. I didn't forget about Nicole."

_You can't forget about Nicole. _

I can't stop myself from continuing, "But…I don't know… I thought…gah! I'm so frustrated! I was terrible that night and he's _married_ and I've got a boyfriend…"

_That you don't love. _

"…it's extremely complicated." My vision begins to blur and I know I'm working myself into a frenzy.

"What are you going to do?" Sookie asks.

"I don't know. What can I do?" I scoff. "Apparently I've missed my chance. But I didn't even see my chance." I bury my face in my hands.

"Honey, it'll be fine…"

Sookie tries to consol me, but I don't hear her, "No! It's not going to be fine! How could it possibly be fine?"

"You have not missed you're chance—"

"I'm pretty sure I have!" I cut her off through my tears, "And I'm not stupid. You told me that he loved me and was waiting for me, Miss Patty always teased me, the whole town knew; _I_ knew he had a little crush on me. But I locked him in the 'friend room' for so long because he's the only man I could count on and I needed him to be around to be able to have coffee or feed me and Rory or to fix my porch." I'm into full-blown crazy-talk now.

"Lorelai, you've got to calm down a little, honey." Sookie put her arms around me.

"And Rory!" I go on. "She was always teasing me about him. And I denied it because—let's face it—my relationships are not the most stable in the world and I didn't want her to get caught in the middle and be forced into choosing sides. But I don't think I really believe that—not anymore. I'm just using my daughter as a shield so I don't have deal with a serious relationship and everything that goes with it. It's just an excuse to keep things casual so I don't get hurt. I sabotage myself and then wonder why I'm alone."

"You're making yourself hysterical." Sookie tells me in a tender voice. "Stop doing this to yourself."

"I just…for so long he was _there_ and I knew that if I wanted him he would want to be with me. But I kept him on the back burner. He promised he was getting a divorce. He was supposed to wait until I was ready." And I'm disgusted with how that sounds. "Ugh! Could I be any more selfish?"

"Lorelai, look at me." Sookie says gently. "Take a deep breath and calm down and tell what you are talking about; you're going to have to fill in the blanks for me. When did he promise to get a divorce?"

"Right before Rory went to Yale. We were loading his truck because Rory had to leave the next day, and that's when he told me what had happened on the cruise. And I know he didn't say 'I promise' but he told me that he and Nicole were separated and getting a divorce. But then she convinced him to give it a chance." I suck in a breath and wipe away the tears. "I found his divorce papers the other morning." I confess. "I didn't mean to; I was looking for a movie or a CD to listen to before he took me home. But she must have interrupted him while he was filling them out because he didn't even finish writing his name in the blank."

"Honey, I've known Luke for a long time." Sookie tries to comfort me. "Trust me when I say that he still cares about you. He's always watched over you and Rory and I'm sure that will never change. But in his mind he needs to give his marriage a chance because of all the heartbreak he's gone through, especially from his relationship with Rachel. That left him pretty jaded. He just…he barricaded himself in that diner and refused to live. I thought he'd given up."

"How many times did she leave him?" I ask.

"While they were together? Three times that I remember. The first time he ended up following her to Chicago for a few months, but he came back and she went around the world. Then she came back about five years later, but she only stayed for about eight months. She left just before you moved into this house. The last time…well, you remember that one. They didn't start to date until after she graduated high school since she was a couple years younger, but they were close. She really helped him when his dad died and I think that's why he took it so hard when she left him. I liked her, but she put Luke through hell."

"I found his diary—well, his notebook." I see Sookie's eyebrows rise in surprise. "I know; I found everything except the CD's." I say wryly.

"Did you…read it?"

"Yeah." And now I feel ashamed. It was so private, but I couldn't even respect that. "It was very depressing."

"Well, Luke's seen a lot of depressing things," Sookie reasons. "Did he write a lot?"

"No. He wrote about his parents, Liz, and Rachel." I breathe. "And me."

"That's a pretty short list." Sookie says quietly.

"Forty-some years crammed into two and a half pages." I remember.

"Luke never was much of a talker."

"He wrote that I was beautiful." I say for no reason. "But it was so cryptic. I think it just makes him more difficult to understand. There were no insights, no discussions. No pro/con lists."

"Well, I mean, this is Luke. I wouldn't expect him to make lists. He's always kind of just gone on instinct." Sookie tells me. "Does he know you found all these things?" She asks.

_His gut feelings..._

I remember our movie night discussion.

_It's so unexpected for a man like Luke to go on intuition._ "I don't think he remembers that he even has these things." I say.

"Are you going to tell him?"

"I don't think so." I answer slowly. I lie back on the couch and stare at the ceiling. "How would I…how can I tell him without destroying his trust in me?"

"Lorelai, you're going to make yourself sick if you dwell on this." Sookie tells me. "Listen to me…you've got to let all the 'what ifs' go. Luke is still your friend, and it sounds like he doesn't know about your…revelations. I know that you feel terrible, but whatever you decide to do, don't avoid him, alright?"

I nod my head.

"I'm serious." She looks serious—worried that something terrible could happen if I don't do exactly as she says—and it stuns me into nodding again. Sookie looks at her watch and sighs, "I've got to go home to Davey. Are you going to be okay?"

"Yes, go home." I give her a hug as we stand up. "I'll be fine." I walk her to the door.

"Goodnight." Sookie calls.

"Goodnight." I shut the door and go to my room. I fall across the bed and land on Luke's flannel. It still smells like him. I change and crawl into bed, using the flannel as a pillow, and fall into a restless sleep.

* * *

It takes me a couple days to go back to the diner, but I pass it off as being overloaded with work. I've managed to keep my freak-outs to a minimum since the night with Sookie. I can't force Luke to get a divorce so things stay in the status quo. He's married to Nicole, I'm dating Jason. I feel myself slipping into denial and bury myself in work. The inn is finally under control—at least financially speaking—and I'm feeling better about life in general. Then my grandmother dies and the crisis meter jumps a few notches again. 

It started with Jason not wanting to go to her funeral. He gave a flimsy excuse about being freaked out by funerals, but even if that's true he is my father's business partner—

_And your boyfriend_.

He needed to be there for my father.

_He needed to be there for us. And I know his 'quirks' are supposed to be endearing, but it really hurt that he wouldn't even consider going._

Miraculously, I made it through with the minimum amount of embarrassment that comes with family functions. The funeral and wake ran late and Rory had to go back to Yale so I drove home alone.

_We just need some coffee._

Luke was closing up when I drove by, but the lights were still on and after a brief debate at home I finally convinced myself that he wouldn't mind some company so I walked back to the diner.

Luke looks up at the sound of the bells and I think I see him repress a smile. "Hey, I didn't think I'd see you tonight."

I take a seat at the counter and waited as he poured my coffee. "Why?"

"Oh, you told me you had some big family thing tonight, so I figured, you know, you're usually pretty drained after those." Luke sorts through receipts as he speaks.

"Nothing a little coffee can't fix."

"Glad I could help." Luke stops and looks up. "What kind of function was it? You look beat."

"Oh, it was…my grandmother's funeral." I let my eyes fall to my coffee mug.

"I'm sorry." Luke squeezes my hand gently and then goes back to sorting receipts. "Was it nice?"

"It was a Gilmore function." I scoff a little. "My mother found a copy of this note while we were closing Gran's estate. Gran had written it to my father, and it basically said that she thought my mom was…unsuitable is about the nicest way I can put it. My mom pretty much imploded when she read it, and I don't blame her. The terrible thing is that I think Gran put it in a place where she knew my mother would find it. It just pains me to think that could be true." I sigh. "It pains me to think those people are my family."

"How'd your dad take all this?" Luke stops what he's doing and leans on the counter.

"Well, my dad knew about the letter 'cause he'd gotten the original the night before he married Mom." I see his eyebrows rise in surprise and I nod in agreement. "I don't know if my mom told him about finding the copy, but Dad was pretty broken up over Gran's death. The last time they spoke was when Gran called me a charity case; they had a huge argument and didn't make up before she died." I take a sip of coffee and notice that Luke is waiting for me to continue. Sookie's words come to mind:

_He's always watched over you and Rory and I don't think that will ever change. _

It's nice to think that's true. "Jason didn't come to the funeral, but my dad was so upset I don't think he noticed."

"Jason?" Luke asks. "Your boyfriend?"

"Yeah," I take a sip of coffee to avoid looking at Luke.

"Why didn't he come?"

"He's afraid of funerals." I chuckle bitterly. "He told me he just doesn't do funerals—something about going to them when he was a kid. But he's my father's business partner. He should've been there for him."

"He should've been there for you." Luke says matter-of-factly, but I can see in his eyes that he is angry. "He should've been a man and sucked it up." He stops and looks a little embarrassed at what he just said. "Sorry—I just mean—he should be there if you two are in a relationship. He shouldn't have left you alone." And with that he turns around to grab a rag.

"I wasn't alone; I had Rory there." I tell him.

He's wiping the counter now and I can tell he's a still angry because he's scrubbing hard. But he sounds calm. "Still, I wish you would've said something. I would've gone with."

"You would've gone to a Gilmore function?" I laugh a little at this.

"You came to my Uncle Louie's funeral, and I've got experience with wakes and funerals. I think I would do okay at a Gilmore funeral.

"I didn't want you to go as…" I try to think of how to put it. "…payback just because I went to your Uncle Louie's."

_Wow, that sounds incredibly weak._

I can see his eyes cloud and he stops scrubbing. "Lorelai…" he shakes his head. "I would have gone because you needed me." He sighs. "You and Rory both helped me a lot when my uncle died and I'm really grateful for that. I just…you shouldn't have to go through that alone." He drops his eyes and begins to scrub again. I can tell that what he just said has touched off memories of his past and realize that Luke is a man who has always gone through sorrow alone: his mother, his father, his sister and the ones he loves leaving him without so much as a goodbye. No one to confide to, no one to lean on, no one to let his guard down with and just be vulnerable and human. But he keeps his memories to himself and after a minute he asks, "How is Rory?"

"She's fine. She had to go back to Yale for classes, but I think everything's okay. She didn't know Gran very well so I don't think it hit her as hard as some others." I say.

"Good." Luke says.

"So…" I draw the question out. "Are you going to Litchfield tonight?"

"I don't know." Luke says. "I should." He sighs a little. "Nicole and I had a fight today and she was pretty mad when she left."

_They're fighting again? I wonder if Miss Patty knows what's going on._ "Can I ask why you had a fight?"

"It's just little things." Luke dismisses my question. "We're both really busy so we haven't spent a lot of time together the last few days. She's been working late with clients even though she just got back from New York. And I've had early deliveries all week. I think we're just stressed." Luke throws the rag into the sink and is quiet a moment. "I'll probably go home and apologize tonight. Cesar's opening tomorrow so I can be with her in the morning."

"Oh," I say, feeling depressed. If he's going to Litchfield then I'll have to go home soon.

_No use in sitting around until he kicks us out._

I finish my coffee and stand up. "I'll let you finish up here then."

I'm halfway to the door before I hear Luke call out, "Hold on." I stop and he disappears into the kitchen.

_Okay, that was odd._

But he comes out with a small Styrofoam box and hands it to me.

"I, uh, had an extra piece of pie. I was just going to throw it away, but do you want it?"

"Of course," I smile and take the box from him.

He smiles back. "It's boysenberry."

_My favorite,_ "You never have boysenberry left over."

"It was a slow night." Luke explains. I can see concern on his face. "Do you, uh, need a hug or something?" He asks shyly.

_I need something…_

"It couldn't hurt." I say. I set the pie down on a table and he's holding me again. It's a little tense at first, but I feel him relax and I rest my head on his good, strong shoulder. He starts to let go but I hold tight.

_Not yet. If I can't kiss you I'll hug you until I'm ready to let go._

He cradles me in his arms until I pull away.

"Sorry about you grandmother," He whispers.

"Thanks." I say back. "Goodnight."

Luke walks me to the door and hands me my pie again. "Goodnight."

I hear the door shut behind me and my footsteps keep me company as I begin to walk home. The cold wind swirls but the Styrofoam box is hot in my hands, and I realize that the pie is fresh from the oven.

* * *

**Look for the final update in three or four days' time if all goes well. I have no idea how, but for some reason I've got it in my head that Lorelai's favorite pie is boysenberry. Any insight? Maybe it's because I think Cherry would be too normal for her.**


	6. Truth Be Told

**Author's note: **In order to conform to a few wishes in reviews, I had to take a few days and add a few scenes. So even though this is the final chapter, this is also by far the longest chapter. Special thanks again to **bellybuttonsrcool **for pointing out that Lorelai mentioned she liked boysenberry in the fifth season. Thanks to everyone who reviewed for their feedback.

Enjoy the finale.

* * *

"**They push and pull 'till it breaks in half,**

**I never trust a guy with a nervous laugh."**

'**I Can't Figure You Out,' The Gin Blossoms**

6. Truth Be Told

When I get home I've decided two things: One, I can't be with Jason if he can't be around when I need him. And two…I've got to figure out what I'm going to do about Luke.

But I don't have a plan, and my denial flourishes until I can decide how I'm going to end it with Jason. Then, when he gives me the key to his apartment I realize that I've got to break it off that night. We reach the door of my house and I hear Jason trying to explain the talking key, but I cut him off. "Jason, I can't be with you." I look him in the eyes.

"What?" He's totally confused. "Is this about the key? I'm sorry; I didn't mean to make you feel pressured." He takes my hands.

I pull away from his grasp. "It's not about the key." I begin. "Well, it's not just about the key."

"What is it then?"

"It's…do you realize what this means?" I take the key from my purse and show it to him.

"It means you passed my 'run test.'" It sounds like a joke, but I can see that he is serious. "Lorelai, I really care about you. I thought we were doing fine."

"We're not!" My voice rises.

"Where is this coming from?" he asks.

"You should have been there for me! At the funeral." I tell him. Then I remember Luke's words. "You should've been a man and sucked it up."

"I didn't realize you were so upset about that, and I told you I'm just really freaked out by funerals." He drops his eyes as he realizes how that sounds to my ears.

"You can't pick and choose these things Jason." I tell him. "You have to take the good with the bad. You can't expect me to spend the night if you won't comfort me in the morning. And you should've been there for my father. You owed it to him as a friend and you owed it to me because we were in a relationship." I make sure to use the past tense.

"Were we in a relationship?" Jason asks tersely. "We never even told your parents. How mature was it to keep putting that off?"

"I know that was a bad idea—"

"You're damn right it was a bad idea!" and suddenly I'm the one being yelled at. "I don't appreciate a laundry list of expectations if you can't even tell the truth to your parents." He's angry. "I was invested in this; I wanted to be honest from the beginning. You were the one who wanted to sneak around—and let me tell you, the sneaking around makes it very hard to be there for you."

"You were not invested; you didn't even make the effort. You won't show up for the difficult things, like funerals. I can't spend the night with you—I have to have a slumber party in the guest room. Even if we weren't 'sneaking around,' I could not go on like that. I need someone to be there for me no matter what. You've ducked out of every uncomfortable event or situation that you could, and I'm tired of it. I can't depend on you so I can't be with you." I try to hand the key back to him but he just stares at me. "Jason, just take the key and leave."

"You can't be serious." He looks at me, and I can tell he's going to try and convince me I'm making a mistake. Like I would be throwing away a good investment if I really decided to break up with him. I recognize just how much he's convinced me to put up with and I realize I should have paid more attention to what he said on our first date. He'd mentioned something about being able to convince anyone of anything if they gave him half a chance; and I was so angry at my mother that day that I thought he was just joking or bragging about his salesman skills. But now I realize he'd persuaded me into more and more situations that I didn't like or feel comfortable about; that I've put up with more from him than I had from anyone else because he could charm his way into anything. And I went along with all of it. I hate to even consider it, but my mother's instincts were on the mark. She didn't like him from the beginning and the more I think about it the more I see what she was talking about. There's something…underhanded about him, something about him that is not quite honest.

And I don't want to put up with it anymore. "I am."

"No you're not," he says. "Look, let's just tell your parents about us, and then I can really be here for you. We'll—"

"No!" I shout. "Jason, this is it. I don't want to be convinced to go along with another uncomfortable situation. You shouldn't have to convince me to go along with anything. We should be able to talk and compromise."

"I've never forced you to do anything…" Jason begins.

"I know, and that's why I wonder how I let myself agree with some of the things you said." I say to him. "I'm not happy Jason and I don't think you really care about me."

"How can you say that?" He's getting angry.

"Because if you did then you would've been at the funeral. You would've been there for my father and you would've been there for me." I hold the key up to him once more. "This is finished. Take the key, and don't call me again. I can't be with someone who won't be there for me and my family."

He takes the key. "Just like that?" He spits out. "It's over just like that?"

"Yes, no paperwork involved."

_Like in a divorce. _

I remember Luke's sock revelation he shared with me earlier and wonder what he's going to do about it. "Goodbye." I don't blink.

Jason walks back to his car and slams the door hard. He starts the engine and looks back at me, but I'm not going inside until I see him drive away. The car peels out of my driveway, spitting gravel across the yard. After another minute I finally go inside and listen to my messages as I hang my coat. Luke's voice catches my attention because he still sounds angry, but I drop my keys when the word 'jail' comes from the machine.

_Oh my God, he killed them both. He was livid this morning._

But he needs a ride home, so it couldn't be murder.

_Maybe it was just assault._

No, I don't think Luke would do that.

I quickly grab my coat and pick my keys up, rushing to get out the door. The banks are closed by now so I stop at an ATM to pull the bail money. I floor the accelerator when I merge onto the highway and pray I won't get a speeding ticket.

_It would be ironic. We're already heading to jail; we just don't want to spend the night there._

When I get to the police station I see him through a small window in the door. He is sitting in the corner of the cell and staring at the concrete floor. The policeman warns me before he goes to get Luke. "He was pretty violent when we picked him up, ma'am. I don't think he's been drinking, but he's got a bad temper. Are you sure you want to pick him up?"

"I'm sure." I say.

The cop looks me in the eye a moment; and I can see he's wondering why I'm not afraid of a man who—in his eyes, at least—is obviously dangerous and volatile. "Okay." The cop disappears behind the door and I hear voices. Luke sounds really, really angry; practically fuming. The door flies open and crashes against the stopper, and Luke is a little surprised to see me standing right in front of him.

"Hey," he says through clenched teeth.

"Hey." I say back, because what else is there to say?

"Thanks for coming to get me." Luke says and then heads to the exit. Without a word I follow a few steps behind, and the cop keeps a watchful eye on both of us.

* * *

I want to know what happened, but I also know that he won't talk about it. We pick up his truck and I talk him out of a second trip to the Litchfield jail after he realizes that the guy is still in his house. I make sure he leads the way home by pretending to be lost, but the truth is I want to be sure he makes it home safely. I don't want him to stop at a bar and drink alone and I don't want him to take another impromptu fishing trip. I want to be there for him because he is always there for me.

When we reach the diner—which is closed—I stop and try to catch up to him, but he is already inside and climbing up the stairs. "Luke!" I call out when I get to the apartment door. There is no answer so I try again, speaking a little softer this time "Luke, are you okay?" Still nothing. "Luke, please answer me."

I hear footsteps cross the room and the door flies open. "What do you want?" he asks angrily. Then he sees how much that hurt me and shakes his head. "I'm sorry, Lorelai. I didn't mean to snap at you." He takes a deep breath, but his voice is still edgy. "Why are you here?"

"Do you want to…talk about anything?" I ask.

"No."

"Luke, let me help you." I say.

"I'm fine." He tells me. "Look, thanks for giving me a ride. I can pay you back for the bail money tomorrow."

He tries to retreat back into his apartment but I catch the door with my hands. "Don't worry about that. Think of it as a down payment on your loan." I smile a little but he doesn't return it. "We don't even have to talk about anything. I'll just…keep you company for a while. We can watch a baseball game or something."

But he shuts me down, "I don't want company."

"And I don't want to wake up tomorrow morning and find out you've decided to do another Jeremiah Johnson impression and disappear into the woods for the next month." I try to pass it off as a little joke, but it comes out so serious that I have to add something else to ease the tension so I fall back on my most reliable excuse. "I need my coffee in the morning."

"The diner will be open tomorrow." Luke says tiredly.

"And you'll be there?" I press.

"Yes, I'll be there. Yes, I'll have coffee." Luke growls.

"Good. I'll be there at six just to make sure." I tell him.

Luke doesn't respond to this, he just looks tired. "I didn't mean to ruin your evening. You didn't have plans with, uh, Jason, did you?" He asks, trying to remember my ex-boyfriend's name.

"No." I tell him.

"Okay. 'Cause you could've just, you know, told him I was going through a psychotic episode or something. I could talk to him if that would help." He's trying to play it off and ease the tension, but he looks so…ashamed…that I'm here trying to comfort him.

"Jason and I broke up." I tell him.

He sighs and leans against the doorjamb. "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry for you." I tell him, but he won't look me in the eyes. "Hey, come here." I tell him.

"What?" he stands up straight and I pull him into a hug. He's surprised and I hear his gruff, grumpy voice. "God, Lorelai, I don't need a hug. I'm not a very touchy-feely kind of guy." But he doesn't let go immediately.

"Then do it for me." I say. He sighs and I feel him relax so I hug him tightly.

_His wife cheated on him and I just broke up. Not a good night in the love department. _

I look up at him and realize we are extremely close. He feels my look and pulls his head back to catch my eyes a moment. Butterflies flutter in my stomach because I'm pretty sure I just saw desire flicker in his eyes. He leans in…

_He's going to kiss me_…

But pauses.

_Just do it! _

Instead he stays a hair's breath from me and whispers gently, "I really need to be alone tonight."

_What!_ "Luke, I don't think that's a good idea." _I want to be here for you._

"I, I just need to figure out how I'm…going to finish the divorce." He says. "I need to do that alone."

_The divorce. Because even if his wife cheated on him, he is still married; and I don't want to cheat with him. We love each other, and we're better than that._

I look in his eyes and see that he is hiding his pain. He hides it well—a slight darkening of his eyes—but now I'm close enough to see past the act. "You're sure?" I ask.

He sighs. "Yeah, I'm sure."

I stand on my tip-toes and kiss his cheek. "If you need anything, call me." I loosen our embrace.

"I will." He promises. "Thanks."

I walk slowly down the stairs and drive home on autopilot with the events of the evening swirling around in my head.

* * *

"**Rumors follow everywhere you go,**

**Like when you left and I was last to know.**

**Well you're famous now and there's no doubt,**

**In all the places you hang out. **

**They know your name and they know what you're about."**

'**Found Out About You,' The Gin Blossoms**

Lane is very surprised to see me waiting on the front steps the next morning as she opened the diner for business. I tell her I've got an early meeting with an investor of the inn—which isn't a lie—and try to be nonchalant as I ask if Luke is there this morning to make my pancakes. Lane smiles softly at that, and I wonder how much she knows about what is going on. "He'll be down in a few minutes. He just got back from a run about ten minutes ago."

"A run?" I ask.

"Yeah, he usually runs right after deliveries three or four times a week." She explains. "He used to run track in high school, you know."

"Yeah, I've seen the plaque." I smile at the memory.

"He got back a little later than usual this morning, but he already made some coffee if you want to wait 'til he comes down."

"Sure, I'll take a cup." I say as I walk over to the end of the counter that is right next to the staircase leading to Luke's apartment. Lane pours a blue mug and sets it next to me on her way to take orders for the few other customers in the diner. When she's finished filling coffee mugs she puts the orders next to the entrance of the kitchen and comes back to stand next to me.

"So," Lane says in a low voice as she tops off my mug and sets the coffee pot down before leaning against the counter. "I don't know a lot about what's been going on, but I think something really bad happened last night, or yesterday afternoon."

"Really?" I try to seem surprised as I take a sip of coffee.

"Yeah," Lane says. She glances at the curtain that hides the staircase and says, "Something definitely happened sometime between four o'clock yesterday and five-thirty this morning. I mean, I've heard…rumors…of what she did to him." Lane is trying to keep her anger in check, and I realize how much she also cares about Luke. "I could tell he was upset for most of the day. He was still here when I got off at four, but when I got here this morning to open with him he wasn't even back from wherever it is he runs to yet."

"No?" I ask.

"No." Lane confirms. "In fact, he didn't come back until quarter 'til. You must've just missed him outside. I was beginning to wonder if he'd closed for the day but had forgotten to tell me—it's never happened before but I thought…I don't know, I might have just not heard him say it or maybe he had something come up." She glances at the curtains again and continues, "Anyways, when he finally showed up he was all out of breath and didn't even see me waiting on the steps until he was breathing normally again. He just looked so—I don't know if you know much about running—but he looked like he ran really hard, really fast. Like he was trying to figure something out or clear his head."

"Ah," I say and drink some more coffee.

Lane furrows her brow as she debates what to say next. "So, do you…" She pauses again, still unsure, but finally asks her question. "Do you know anything? I mean, is it true? Did she…" But Lane can't bring herself to say what Nicole did. "Did she _do that_ to him?"

Normally I wouldn't answer Lane; this is very private and she is very young. But the rumors are already flying and she should hear the truth from me, she worries for Luke just like Rory does. God only knows how my child found out, but not five minutes after I got home last night Rory called and asked me if Luke was alright. When I asked how she knew something had happened she told me it was just her woman's intuition.

_Rory's intuition and Luke's gut feelings...who knew they would have that in common._

She kept asking if Luke was okay and it took me twenty minutes to convince her not to come home from Yale right away. In the end she decided she would try and leave Friday Night Dinner early and come home for the weekend. I'm glad for that; I think Luke will like seeing Rory this weekend.

Lane is watching me, waiting for an answer. I sigh and look down a moment before saying, "Yes, she did."

Lane clenches her fists and the loathing is clear in her voice, "I can't believe that!"

"Lane, calm down." I tell her

"But what's wrong with her?" Lane asks. "I mean, Luke put up with her crazy schedule and her idiotic idea about dating even though they're married, he even moved in with her!" She paused a moment and dropped her voice to barely above a whisper. "Oh my God, what if the reason for her crazy schedule was because she was having an affair?"

"Lane…"

"What? You're not upset too?"

"Of course I'm upset," I respond. "Luke doesn't deserve this."

"Nicole's going straight to Hell," Lane says bitterly. "Mama Kim will back me up on this one, too. The worst thing you can do is betray someone. She'll be sitting next to Satan himself; ninth layer, center aisle."

"Lane!"

"Luke's is the only Mama Kim-approved place in this whole town. In fact, Luke is the only Mama Kim-approved man I know other than my father. I don't like to see him hurt."

"Lane, it won't help to get angry about this," I try to reason. "It's over and done, you can't do anything about that. All we can do now is help him move past it."

Lane is silent a moment, "Yeah, I guess you're right." And I can see she realizes that's why I'm here so early this morning.

I hear the door shut upstairs and Lane stands up straight. "So," she says brightly. "You want pancakes? Anything else?"

"Bacon, and I'll try some hash browns this morning." I tell her as Luke comes through the curtain and stops at the sight of me.

"Jeez, I thought you were kidding." He rubs his eyes a little and looks at the two of us.

"Nope," I smile as I take the last sip of my coffee and hold it out to Luke. "Coffee please?"

Luke sighs and picks up the coffee pot on the counter, "There is something seriously wrong with you." He says.

"Fine, I'll have a glass of orange juice to go with my breakfast if it makes you happy." I say.

"Throw in half a grapefruit and I'll jump for joy." Luke deadpanned.

"You don't serve grapefruits." I tease.

"I can go next door and buy a grapefruit," He says. "I've done it before." He smiles a little at that memory.

"Nah, save your money today," I tell him. "The orange juice is all you'll get me to agree to."

"Well, it's a start," Luke says as he sets the coffee pot on the warmer.

Lane says, "I've already taken everyone's orders, I put the tickets over there." She points in the direction of the kitchen. "Kirk wanted his French toast cut into stars today and Mr. Browne wanted to know if you have any of that apple-cinnamon butter left to go on his pancakes."

"Okay, tell Kirk it'll take me a few minutes to find my star cookie-cutter and tell Mr. Browne I should have just enough left for him."

"Hey, I didn't know you had the apple-cinnamon butter left." I say.

"Relax, I figured you'd want some," Luke says tiredly. "I'll be out with your breakfast in a few minutes."

He heads into the kitchen and I turn to Lane. "Stars?" I ask. "Luke cuts Kirk's breakfast into stars for him?"

Lane smiles a little. "The first time I took his order and he asked for that I just laughed at him. But he insisted and when I brought it to Luke he just looked at the order and pulled out a cookie-cutter like it was no big deal." She quickly turns to make sure Luke isn't standing behind her, "I think it's sweet, Luke doing those little things, especially for someone like Kirk." She scans the diner and then says, "Well, I need to make the rounds again; your breakfast should be ready pretty soon.

I take the opportunity to look around the diner and out the windows. Taylor's ice cream shop is still closed this early, but the market is open and there are a few people in it. It's quiet this early in the morning.

"Here you go," Luke's voice interrupts my thoughts as he slides my plate in front of me. Lane has already taken one of the others and Luke takes Kirk's French toast to him before coming back to the counter.

"Thanks for the pancakes." I say to him.

"Yeah," he says as he makes some more coffee.

"Can I get them shaped like stars next time?"

"No." he grunts.

"Why?" I ask.

"Because I have enough trouble remembering not to put your eggs on your pancakes so that your breakfast doesn't ogle you."

"Fine," I say. "Hey Luke—"

"Listen," he says at the same time, and I go quiet. "It's going to get really busy in about five minutes and I've got to take care of a few things or I'll end up being swamped."

"Oh, okay."

"I'll check on you in a couple minutes, alright?"

"Yeah, fine." I say and he walks toward the storeroom. The diner does get busy, and he checks on me every few minutes or so in between runs to the storeroom for eggs or bread or whatever else it is that everyone is ordering. It finally occurs to me that I'm done with breakfast and I haven't been able to talk to him yet, just to see how he's doing. I gather my purse and wait for an older man to pay for his meal before I come to the register. "Hey," I say.

"Hey," Luke replies.

"So, how are you this morning?" I ask.

Luke gestures at the tables, "Busy."

_Luke…_

"Rory said she was going to try and come home this weekend," I tell him.

"Good, I bet she could use a break from school." Luke isn't smiling, but he sounds a little happier.

"So, other than you being busy, what else is going on?" I hand him my money.

"Can't find a loaf of wheat bread—makes me wonder how I can lose something like that." Luke says as he hands me my change.

"Luke—"

"Lorelai," he says tiredly, and I can tell he's wearing thin. "Everything's fine."

"Okay," I say. "I'll probably come by for coffee later." I smile.

"See you then."

"Bye." I say as I head out the door.

When I come back after work I find out Luke is running errands, and when he gets back he spends his time running between the kitchen and upstairs. I only get to talk to him a few minutes, and he doesn't want to talk at all; not today and not tomorrow and not the day after.

Rory comes home a few days later, and she spends a lot of time hanging out with Lane, who happens to be working at the diner most of the weekend. I have a feeling she's checking on Luke as well as catching up with Lane.

* * *

Three weeks later, life is returning to normal. Luke has calmed down. He lets Cesar and Lane take orders while he spends most of his time doing inventory.

_Some things never change._

He goes to his apartment early every night, so it's difficult to talk to him. I try to focus on the inn; he'll talk when he's ready. I remind myself that I can't push Luke to talk, especially about his feelings. Even though I just want to make sure he's alright, he'll see my questions as nagging. He'll become self-conscious and angry because every time someone asks if he's okay he remembers why he is in this situation. So I phrase my questions carefully and keep the conversations light. I know that he's upset, but I pretend not to notice.

Late that Friday night, I'm coming back from another dinner and see that the lights are still on in the diner, so I stop and open the door, ignoring the 'closed' sign. The chairs are all up on the tables and Luke is mopping the floor. I hear a noise and see his tiny TV sitting on the counter, next to…a baseball bat?

Luke looks up from his work. "Hey, I closed up a little early, but I could make you something if you want."

"No, that's okay." I spot a single coffee pot behind the counter. "I'll just finish off your coffee for the night."

"Help yourself." Luke rings out the mop.

"You mean I can go behind the counter?" I'm purposely over-enthusiastic.

"Be careful, I already mopped back there so the floor is wet." Luke is swinging the mop back and forth as he talks.

"Where's your sign?" I ask.

"What sign?" Luke stops and turns around.

"Your 'wet floor' sign." I say. "What would the health department say about not warning customers?"

"I used to use a sign I stole from Taylor, but he found out I had it and threatened to embargo the diner, so I gave it back to him.

I laugh. "How was he going to embargo the diner?"

"Hell if I know." Luke starts mopping again. "It was a long time ago, and I only took the sign to see how mad he would get."

"How mad did he get?" I ask.

"I thought I saw steam come out of his ears. He was just about as red as your dress." Luke smiles, "You look nice tonight, by the way."

I blush a little. "Well, you know, I look damn good in red."

"Oh, I know." Luke says as he finishes mopping and takes the bucket in the back.

Is he flirting with me?

_Well, duh. You're not that dense._

He comes back out and starts washing his hands in the sink.

"Hey," I get his attention. "Why do you have the mini-TV out tonight?"

"I was watching a ball game earlier." Luke says.

"What's with the…bat? You didn't kill his big brother upstairs did you?"

"No, I just…had a lot on my mind today so I went to the batting cages." Luke wipes his hands. "Aw, crap." He grumbles.

"What?"

"I got grease all over my shirt." He begins to unbutton it. "I'll be right back."

"Where are you going?" I ask.

"To change," He points upstairs.

"Why? It's after ten and I'm the only person who'll be here between now and six o'clock tomorrow morning."

"I don't want it to stain." Luke says.

"I'll call Martha to get it out." I quip. "It'll be fine."

"Fine," Luke takes off his flannel and un-tucks his grey T-shirt. He tosses the dirty shirt into the corner near the stairs and leans against the counter. The TV catches his attention and he watches it for a minute.

"What's on now?" I ask.

"Sportscenter." He replies.

"Again? Is it on a constant loop or something?" I ask.

"Pretty much," Luke says "It's on in the mornings, evenings, and then again late at night. It's like CNN, only not such a downer."

"So how were the batting cages?" I ask.

"A little wild at first, but not bad." Luke is still watching the TV.

_Luke, why won't you just talk to me?_

"What was on your mind?" I continue.

"When?"

"Today—you said you had a lot on your mind and that's why you went to the batting cages."

"I just had a lot of things I had to finish today." Luke glances at me and then turns back to the highlights.

"We're they…divorce things?"

Luke sighs. "Yeah."

"Sorry."

"Well, it's done now so I don't have to think about it anymore." He looks at me a moment longer this time before returning his attention to the television.

"It's done?"

"Yeah, it's done." Luke glances at the counter before looking back at me. "I went to Litchfield today and signed the final papers."

"Well, at least it's over." I say.

"She kept the house." Luke tells me.

"What?" I'm a little surprised by this non sequitur.

"Nicole got the house in the divorce." He clarifies. "I'm…moving back to Stars Hollow. I just, I thought you should know that since we're friends."

"Thanks for telling me." I smile at him. "The divorce thing went pretty fast though, didn't it? I mean I always hear how these things can take months or even years."

"Yeah, well, that's one of the perks of divorcing a lawyer." Luke smiles sarcastically. "We already had the papers from when we were separated, and Nicole worked the system to have things expedited."

"That's good."

"I just wanted to be done with it."

"Do you…want any company tonight? Or do you need some time to process everything?" I ask.

"I did my processing at the batting cages." Luke says. "I was just going to close early and drink a beer, but if you want to come up I wouldn't mind."

"Sure." I agree.

"Do you, uh, want to go home and change first?" Luke asks.

I forgot about being all dressed up. "What do you got here?" I bat my eyelashes.

"You're not stealing any more flannel." Luke tells me. "Go home and change. By the time you get back I'll be finished down here.

"I'll be right back." I call over my shoulder.

"I want my flannel." Luke reminds me.

* * *

I'm walking up to the door of the diner twenty minutes later, feeling much more comfortable in a black V-neck T-shirt and good pair of jeans. I open the door and Luke comes from the storage room. "Hey, did you want anything from down here?"

"No," I say.

Luke pulls back the curtain. "After you."

"Thanks." I start up the stairs.

"Mmmhmm. I see you conveniently forgot my shirt." He says dryly.

"I told you, you're not getting it back." I say with a smile.

* * *

"**So tell me all your troubles, **

**I'll surely tell you mine.**

**We'll laugh and smoke and cuss and joke,**

**And have a glass of wine."**

'**When the Coast Is Clear,' Jimmy Buffett**

Its past eleven-thirty, but Luke and I are sitting on his couch, facing each other and still nursing our first beers of the night. The TV is buzzing low, but I don't know what show is on.

_Probably Sportscenter again._

Luke has opened up a little about his past relationships and I get a flash of déjà vu as I think of our movie night conversation after Rory called. We're talking quietly and I'm trying to make him smile for the first time since we've come up to the apartment.

"Thanks for being here tonight." Luke says as he shakes his bottle gently. The little bit of beer left swirls around and then settles as he sets the bottle on the coffee table.

"I'm glad I can be here." I say. "It's nice to be able to return the favor after so many times."

"…I know I've been a little grumpy for the last couple weeks."

"You're _always_ a little grumpy." I shoot back.

He almost cracks a smile at that. "Yeah, well…thanks for putting up with me."

_So close._

I set my bottle down next to his and stretch my legs out a little.

"Trying to kick me off the couch again?" Luke deadpans.

"There's room for both of us." I say, noticing that my move caught his attention again.

_Works every time._

I tuck my legs under myself so that we're sitting closer together.

"It's just been really…" Luke trails off. I look up to see that he is trying to figure out how to finish his sentence. "I've been so angry about everything."

"Why?" I ask.

"Because I was humiliated!" he says bitterly. "I mean, Nicole was the one who wanted to give this another chance—she came to me. And I believed her. It seems like that's my genetic defect. I believed Nicole, I believed Rachel repeatedly, and I got kicked to the curb every time. Hell, I even gave Jess a second chance to stay and graduate, but that didn't make a damn bit of difference." His eyes flashed with defeat. Then he looks at me. "I'm sorry—I don't usually…talk about these things. You're hearing twenty years of frustration all in one night."

"You usually go to the batting cages." I say, remembering his comment from earlier.

"Yeah," Luke seems a little surprised I picked up on that. "I don't do the big, long emotional talks—I never have. Neither did my dad." He pauses a moment and then points to himself. "We—my dad and me—not the best communicators."

"Maybe you should try to talk about things." I encourage; I realize this is how I usually learn about Luke's past. A word or gesture will trigger his memory, and he'll tell a story or make a sideways comment about how things were long before we had met.

"Talk?" Luke shakes his head. "I don't think so. I just…I've never felt comfortable talking about things. It's just not part of who I am—in fact, I think tonight is the most I've ever talked. I remember my dad used to drive my mom crazy—he would always avoid big talks. He told my mom that every time they talked he ended up in trouble, and he was tired of being in trouble. But, eventually, he'd give in—I never really understood why he did until you started begging me for coffee." Luke sighs and kind of shakes his head. "I can still hear her yelling at him. 'William Danes!'" His voice rises a little as he tries to imitate a woman. "'Come down from that office and talk to me, _now_.' And two minutes later, my dad would trudge down the stairs, dragging his feet, and they'd take a walk around town and talk about whatever it was that was on my mom's mind."

"She sounds like a good woman." I say.

"She was." Luke stares at his shoes, like he's looking for a way to explain something. He laughs a little but doesn't smile, "The musicals you found—they were hers. She loved them. I got kinda tired of them after watching them nine hundred-million times, but she watched them every weekend. She'd pop a movie in and sing along as she did housework."

"How did…what happened to her?" I ask

"I'd rather not talk about that." Luke adjusts his hat.

"I'm sorry." _Because what else is there to say?_

"You didn't know." Luke dismisses my concern. "I don't like to share that part of my life. I guess Nicole will go into that category too." He's silent a moment and I don't know what to say. "I just, I wish she would've told me she was that unhappy. Sometimes I wonder what I did to deserve some of the things that have happened in my life."

"You didn't deserve that." I tell him.

"But still—did I kick a duck or something?" Luke asks me.

"What?" _Usually it's me that confuses him._

"It's an old joke I heard when I was a kid. It's stupid so I'm not going to tell it, but the gist is that if you kick a duck in heaven you'll have bad karma for the rest of eternity." Luke tells me.

"I can honestly say I've never heard it."

Luke looks surprised. "I never thought I'd stump you."

"Better make a note in your diary, it doesn't happen often." I tease.

_We'll have to pull a Mission Impossible and see if he actually does._

"Dear diary…" Luke says in a girly voice as he stands up and grabs the beer bottles. "Today I stumped Lorelai. My life is complete." He rinses the bottles out and I stand up to stretch. "Did you want another?" Luke asks. I shake my head and Luke agrees with me. "Yeah, I didn't need to get drunk—that doesn't fix anything and I end up feeling like crap in the morning. I just needed to…"

"Wallow?" I finish for him.

He scrunches his eyebrows in slight disgust and asks. "What's the masculine version of that?"

"Going to the batting cages." I say with a small smile; then I see the time on the grandfather clock behind him. "It's getting late…" I say, not really wanting to go yet, but Luke looks tired.

"Yeah," I can tell Luke is covering his emotions again. "Did you walk here?"

"Yeah."

"You want me to walk you home?" Luke offers.

"No, that's okay." I say. "This is Stars Hollow." I see him start to object and reassure him, "I've got my cell if I run into any hoodlums."

He follows me to the door and I give him a small hug—it's been getting easier to give him hugs over the past few weeks. "Goodnight." I say.

"See you later." Luke answers.

* * *

"**Angel de mi guardia, dulce compañía, no me desampare ni de noche ni de día. No me deje sola que me perdería."**

**Traditional Southwest Prayer**

The walk home is quiet and quick. That is not how I thought the evening would go, but at least he's finally finished with the divorce.

_Cesar and Lane just can't add up to Luke in the kitchen._

I open my door and feel disappointment.

_What did you expect though?_

I expected…more.

_Why?_

Because… because of the way he looked at me that one night. Because we're flirting again and spending a lot of time together and he knows I'm free and he's finally free—

A knock on the door interrupts my thoughts.

_Who is that? It's midnight. _

I grab my cell and move to get a look at the door. It's hard to make out shapes because of the frosted glass, but I see…a blue baseball cap?

"Luke?" I open the door and see that he is about to knock again. He looks a little nervous and out of breath. "Did you follow me home?"

"No." he answers quickly.

"You just want your shirt back that bad?" I ask. "'Cause seriously, I was going to give it back at breakfast in the morning."

He cracks a smile.

_Finally._

He laughs a little and shakes his head, "No."

"Then what?" I ask.

"I know when we became friends." He answers.

"What?" _Where is this coming from?_

"You asked me when I knew we were friends when you stayed the night. I know the answer." Luke steps closer to me.

"Luke, I was crazy that night—" But he cuts me off.

"It was the first time Rory came in by herself." He tells me.

"Luke, have you been obsessing over that question this whole time?" I'm a little thrown. I'm flattered and happy because he remembered, but I'm confused as to why he didn't mention this earlier in the night. I turn away slightly to try and regain my bearings.

"No." Luke answers my question. "But you were right. That's the kind of thing I should be able to pin down. After all we've been through I should know something like that." He pauses for a breath and takes hold of my hands, which makes me look him in the eye. "The first time Rory came in by herself was when I realized we were friends. She was eleven. It was four o'clock and she had just gotten out of the last day of school for the year. I was a little surprised to see her in the diner 'cause you two usually didn't come in until after five. So I asked her where you were—since you two are joined at the hip—and she told me very proudly that she was meeting you at the diner for dinner. And she just waited for you—reading and writing in that little notebook she used to carry everywhere or talking to me when I took a break behind the counter. You came in just after five like always and you guys had dinner and then you called me Duke and left. I knew you never let her go places by herself when she was that young. But you let her come to the diner, and that's when I knew we were friends."

And now I can barely stand, because Luke's words are swirling in my head and making me dizzy; he could tell me—to the minute—when he knew we were friends. "Wha…when …" But the words get caught in my throat and tears sting my eyes.

"Hey, don't cry." Luke takes me into his arms. But I can't help it this time. I bury my face in his chest and my tears stain his T-shirt. "Shh. There's no reason to cry." I can hear he's angry with himself. "That was supposed to make you happy…" he grumbles, more to himself than to me.

I pull back with a small laugh and look him in the eyes. "It did." I say to him. "I can't believe you told me that. No one's ever made me feel so special." I rest my head against his chest again and take a breath.

"I didn't mean to make you cry." Luke sounds embarrassed now.

"It's fine." I say. I look up and see that he is staring at me.

He struggles for the words, "Listen, I really care about you and Rory—and I know I don't say that out loud, but you both have really helped me a lot. I just want you to know—to hear it from me."

"Thank you." I say. I blink away a couple tears and notice that he is still looking into my eyes. "What?"

"Nothing," but Luke quickly corrects himself, stumbling a little over his words. "I mean—God, you're beautiful. I don't think I've told you that before either, but you are."

"Thank you." I blush.

"Let me kiss you." He speaks softly. "Please."

I nod my head and our lips meet. And _this _moment is perfect.

* * *

**Thank you for reading. **

**I think the traditional prayer is particularly fitting, loosely translated it means: "My guardian angel, my sweet companion, please never leave me in the day or in the night. Without you I would be lost." It comes from a song penned by Doug Hopkins, who based the song off of a picture of two small children crossing a rickety bridge with an angel watching over them in the background.**

**I don't have plans for additional chapters or a sequel, but I am working on another story that is turning out to be rather epic. Right now I've got a few chapters down and am trying to figure out where this project will go—or if it will even get off the ground for that matter.**

**Until next time…**


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